Blood, Obsidian, Ocean
by Lorithomar
Summary: 2006; Seventy years ago, The Holy Grail of Fuyuki City was stolen, and then vanished without a trace. Now, it has reappeared in Romania, signaling the advent of a new, strange Grail War, with two sides preparing their stratagems for battle. Of course, this being a Grail War, nothing ever goes according to plan, and strange developments begin to unfold... (Fate/Apocrypha AU)
1. Chapter 1

_Discalimer: This story is simply for pleasure. I own nothing from the NASUverse_

Blood, Obsidian, Ocean Chapter 1

 _Trifas_

The night, which was normally so peaceful in this part of Europe, was currently being greatly disturbed by the massive and bloody sounds of battle and death.

The battlefield was a sight of absolute terror and carnage. Strange skeletons and fantastical creatures fought against pale, silent, brown-haired and red-eyed warriors and spell- casters, and hulking golems, all under the shadow of mighty, jutting spikes, upon many of which were impaled skeletons and many of the fantastical creatures.

On the ground, two mighty blurs of light, one a deep blue, and the other a lively green, clashed and dashed against one another time and time again, each accompanied by the clatter of hooves and sparking horseshoes, and the exultant cries of two warriors, each as eager and exultant as the other at having found a worthy opponent to fight and die against.

Arrows filled the sky from seemingly every direction, and rained down death and destruction aplenty on all sides with explosions of fire and death and cutting through the air.

A powerful, glowing lance repeatedly cut great swaths of flaming destruction throughout the battlefield, turning large groups of the golems and pale fighters into bloody mist and dust.

In the center of the battle itself, a thing that could only be described as a mountainous mass of living tumors with mouths and eyeballs and draconic heads, all of which were screaming an ecstatic sort of voice, "Yes! Yes! Death to all oppressors! Let my love destroy all those who would dare tread upon the defenseless masses in a great burst of freedom and liberty! Hahahahahahaha!"

Out of all this madness, however, it would still have been impossible to miss the titanic clash between a masked knight in red armor, and a simple swordsman in much plainer clothes and traditional armor who was wearing an eye-patch.

Each clash of their blades was like the clamor of planets smashing against one another, their swings still destroying great areas of land, even if they were dodged. Such was their might and power that even a blind and deaf person would have been able to sense the bloodlust emanating from their strokes and slashes.

Riposte and parry, overhead slash, pirouette; leaping dodge, reverse cut, kick to the head, smash with the flat of the blade, blade lock, disengage, repeat… on and on went this dance of battle and death between these two warriors, these two legends, these two… Heroes.

For this duel, and indeed, the rest of the greater battle, was but one skirmish in an ancient and secret war between Heroes of the past, and all for the ultimate prize.

After another brief moment of locking blades and testing the other's strength, they parted, both leaping back a great distance from one another.

"You're pissing me off, you one-eyed bastard!" The masked knight screamed, pointing a tarnished-looking broadsword of crimson and steel at the other participant in this battle of heroes.

The knight's opponent, a silver-haired, one-eyed swordsman in simple clothing and armor, said nothing in response to the knight's angry shout, and simply raised his own, red-handled, single-edged sword, as a signal that he was ready to continue, his one visible eye visibly narrowing in concentration, and perhaps slight disdain.

The lack of a verbal answer served only to raise the masked knight's ire. "Bastard! Just die already!"

With that, the knight's helmet began to collapse upon it's self while merging into her (for this warrior of steel and blade and might was, on the surface, female) armor, revealing an oddly boyish face with pale skin, angry emerald eyes, and a large mess of dirty blonde hair roughly tied back into a short, messy pony tail.

With a shout, she raised her tarnished sword, as red lighting and power gathered about its blade, and then rising into a towering inferno of lighting and crimson.

The swordsman's visible eye did not widen in fear or surprise at this. Instead, he simply gripped his weapon with both hands, his form tense, yet relaxed. "So be, it, oh rash and angry knight," he said, his voice audible enough to be heard by his opponent, even among the clatter of the battlefield.

A visible sphere of power then materialized around him, as his sword began to glow and let loose its own tower of strength and bloodlust. Without a word, he settled into the Raito stance, blade at the ready.

"Get ready, Saber of Black!" Screamed the Knight of Treachery, as her blade's power became near blinding, which was soon matched by the equally crimson glow of the Legendary Swordsman's bloodthirsty and impossible katana. He lifted it into a vertical position, ready to lift and slash down.

 **"Clarent…"**

 **"Juuchi…"**

 **"…Blood Arthur!"**

 **"…Yosamu!"**

With a blast that seemed akin to the roar of mighty dragons, the two slashes met in a great and mighty explosion, each propelled by the power of history and legend and myth. The resulting mixture seemed more akin to that of a sun going supernova than anything else.

How did this all start? The answer lies in the past, six days ago…

* * *

 _Clock Tower, six days ago_

It was not a good situation, The Lord El-Melloi II mused. Not since the news from Romania had been received.

As he mused, he had heard a knock on his study door. "Come in."

The man that entered was a large, muscular, burly man who, despite his scarred countenance, was only in his thirties at most. He was dressed like a stereotypical biker, with shoulder length, messy hair, dark sunglasses, what seemed to be a sawed-off shotgun dangling from his hip, along with a lit cigarette clenched between his teeth.

"Lord El-Melloi?" the man asked, in a voice befitting his frame, tinged though it was from the years of smoke inhalation.

"First off, it's El-Melloi _II_. Secondly, yes. You are Kairi Sisigou, correct?"

"Yep. Old man Belfaban told to meet with you?"

"Indeed. Take a seat, please."

The Necromancer did.

"Tell me, Sisigou, what do you know of the Yggdmillennia?"

"As much as any other magus, I guess. They're a collective of degrading maig clans who pool their resources together in order to survive, and that the old folks here think that they're a bunch of "heretics," but other than that, not much. Never really ran into them during my travels. Why?"

In response, the lord reached into his desk and pulled out a rather large file. He withdrew from the file an old, slightly faded photograph of a man dressed in a Nazi uniform. "Seventy years ago, their current head, the man you see here, took part in the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. Have you heard of that, at least?"

"Who hasn't?"

"Indeed. Suffice to say; due to machinations of this man, there have been no new wars in Fuyuki. It is all because, in 1936, on the eve of World War II, at the end of the Holy Grail War, this man aided the Nazis in stealing the Greater Grail, before it suddenly vanished."

"So?"

"So, two months ago, this same man, who has not aged a day since 1936, and who has a standing price and kill-on-sight order over his head, recently proclaimed to the Association that the Greater Grail had been in his possession the entire time, and that his organization, Yggdmillennia, were fully seceding from the Association. The Heads of the Clock Tower sent a team of fifty of their best magus hunters to investigate and confront him."

"What happened?"

"Forty nine of them were massacred, and the sole survivor, before dying, was returned here, half mad, and raving about how his comrades had all been slaughtered by a single man; a servant, to be more precise. This confirmed our worst fears, which was that the Holy Grail War, the True one, has once again begun. Only this, time, the reserve system has been activated, meaning that it will be a battle of fourteen, instead of seven."

The lord was silent for a moment, so as to let that statement sink in.

The moment was then ruined by the loud crash heard out in the hallway, causing El-Melloi II to groan in resignation.

In the next instant, a teenager with blue eyes, slightly tanned skin, blonde hair, and a red vest walked in, clutching a small pile of books in his hands, while a sheepish expression was plastered on his too-happy face.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Big Ben London Super Star! I don't know why, but I just tripped on that rug! Here are the books that you asked for."

"Flat, thank you. Also, how many times have I asked you not to call me that, you dumbass?!"

To Lord El-Melloi II, the only descriptions that could be aptly applied to Flat Escardos, besides "massive moron," was "walking irony." On one hand, the teenager had more raw talent and power in magecraft than most of the Lords combined, which, ordinarily, would have made him a tempting prize/ student/ test subject for any magus worth their salt. This was deeply offset, however, by the fact that the boy was such a _colossal_ idiot that no one was willing to deal with him for long. In fact, as the boy had once cheerfully told him, his own parents had tried to kill him, multiple times.

Thus, for several _excruciatingly_ long years, he had been the responsibility of El-Melloi II, long past the number of years one could be student at the clock tower, since El-Melloi II was quite unwilling to let the boy, now nearly twenty years of age, into the wider world, for fear of the damage he could cause. Of course, that just meant that he was still stuck with the irritating brat.

The necromancer chuckled as he watched the amusing scene. "Hey kid."

The boy looked at him, and his face broke open into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Lion!"

"It's Kairi."

"Sorry. Anyway, Mr. Belfaban said he's ready to see you."

As the Necromancer and the blonde boy left, El-Melloi sighed, looking at the box on his desk again. A new Grail War. How terrifying. He still sometimes had nightmares from the farce that he had been involved in. All he could hope was that the team sent by the Clock Tower to participate would fare better than the mage hunters.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp, almost blinding pain on his right hand, making him cry out in pain, and clutch the side of his desk to remain upright, and then he watched in horrid fascination as blood began to seep out of his glove.

Impossible. **Impossible!**

A moment later, he heard Flat exclaim in pain as well, and then run into the room, clutching his right hand, as blood seeped between his student's fingers.

Oh no. No, no, no, no!

But, alas, it was, he realized, as he removed his now bloody glove. It was indeed, as he feared, as he and Flat watched in gruesome attention as the symbols finished etching themselves onto the Lord's hand.

Flat than spoke, still clutching his bleeding hand, upon which the unseen force was carving his own symbols, his own seals. "I just want you to know, Teacher, that this is not my fault!"

As the pain and bleeding subsided, El-Melloi II raggedly sighed in resignation. Things had just gotten a great deal more complicated, especially when he considered their color...

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

It was a beautiful and serene night, though the eyes of two of the room's residents eyes never once gazed out the gilded window, and instead remained glued to the chessboard in front of them, while the other two, a silent maid and a strange thing of mental and stone resembling the robots from a well-known science fiction movie franchise, stood silently, awaiting orders.

One of the two players, a surprisingly beautiful man dressed in a bright and colorful suit, stroked his short black beard as he gazed at the board from behind his spectacles and considered his next move, while at his side, his left arm, which was covered in in what looked like a large mechanical limb made from steel and gold and gleaming emeralds for joints, flexed as if it were rapidly typing away on something, thus making the sound of softly whirring servos fill the room. The strange mechanical, gem-encrusted bird that was almost always perched on the man's shoulder trilled, the sound like those of a clock's soft, musical chimes, and he stroked it with his unarmored hand, making it coo and blink its emerald eyes in pleasure. The beautiful man's opponent was a handsome figure with gray hair and purple eyes that appeared to be only in his early thirties at most, though he was in actuality much older then he seemed.

"How are the preparations coming, Caster?" the gray-haired man asked, with a surprisingly deep voice, as he moved a pawn forward.

"They have been going like clockwork, Lord Darnic. Everything will soon be running at peak capacity. It's all rather exciting!" The beautiful man exclaimed, his tone happy and upbeat, almost like that of a child, as he moved his left knight forward and to the left.

Darnic looked up for a moment, and studied the man. This was the man renown throughout the world for his still unparalleled genius, and his many contributions to a plethora of subjects, most being well ahead of his time. This was the Golden Man, The Omniscient Genius, the Polymath, and, of course, the quintessential Renaissance man. This was Leonard da Vinci, the Caster-class servant of the Black Faction.

Roche Frain had been unprepared for the fact that his servant, the legendary Painter/ engineer/ sculptor/ mathematician/ etc… Leonardo Da Vinci was a person who was so friendly and open with his emotions. The Caster class Servant always greeted everyone, from homunculi to the other Masters, and even unresponsive golems, with exuberant and extroverted kindness, respect and compassion. To the young boy, who had been raised by emotionless dolls and golems for most of his life, Darnic supposed that it must have been rather unpleasant and disconcerting, to say the least, after summoning the genius over two months ago. Though, despite the Servant's eccentricities, Da Vinci was indeed a boon to the Black Faction in every necessary way.

Despite never having had a Magic Crest or Mage Circuits in his first life, Caster had what could only be described as an abnormally absurd amount of talent in all things related to Thaumaturgy, which, oddly enough, had been recorded in life in the Association Records. The Servant of the Spell had quickly proven himself to be invaluable, helping to greatly speed up the production of golems and homunculi to an exponential amount, including making some powerful adjustments to their designs, as well as reinforcing the defenses of Millennia Castle by marking the entire castle as his Workshop, thus elevating it to a Temple-Class Territory, which worked hand-in-hand with Lancer's Skill. He had also developed powerful magic codes and weapons and armors for the masters and homunculi to employ in the battles to come.

Personally, Darnic was of the hypothesis that The Renaissance Man had been born with an innate connection to the Root, which, combined with his natural genius, had been what allowed him to use magecraft at all. But, that was just Darnic's own opinion, and irrelevant to the War as a whole, just as it was irrelevant that Roche and his servant had very little overall compatibility. In Darnic's mind, it was not something that he felt was of any concern.

Though, he was somewhat glad that the Caster had been summoned only after Lancer had slaughtered that entire force from the Magus Association. Despite his genius, Da Vinci had a surprisingly inflexible moral code, though, for some reason, he had no real objection to the use of the homunculi as batteries. It was apparently just "unnecessary bloodshed" where the famed polymath drew his moral line.

While something of an annoyance to the Master of Lancer, Darnic had decided such a moral code was easily manageable, given the right circumstances.

For a while longer, the two continued playing their chess match in silence.

"If I may be so bold, Master Darnic, then I would like to know if you think that you will emerge victorious in this War?" Caster asked, as he took one of Darnic's pawns with a rook.

Darnic was silent for a moment, and then answered. "It feels like a lifetime ago, that moment when those pathetic rats of the Magus Association cast me out, all because they predicted that my clan was doomed to fall into nothingness. To me, that felt like a death, my first death, since those same rats once believed that I was destined for greatness, until the moment when they cast me aside like so much garbage."

Knight takes rook. "But, despite all expectations, I managed to rise up from the depths into which they cast me. I made Yggdmillennia a name to be reckoned with, then I participated in the Fuyuki Holy Grail War, crushed all who stood before me, and, in the end, managed to obtain the Greater Grail itself."

He could still remember the flames as that city burned, but also how good it had felt, seeing the look on the Nazis' faces as he had stolen the Grail right out from under them, leaving their bodies to rot and bloat in the sea. Even for one like him, that had been an act he would never lose sleep over, considering what the Fascists had later done to his people...

Caster then moved his remaining bishop back. "For sixty years, Caster, I have been preparing. Preparing for this moment, right here in the city of Trifas. It is what sets me apart from all the previous participants of this war, because unlike them, I know what I am getting into. I have been patient, and waiting. So now, this time, I am prepared. This time, I am ready. My opponents in this war, however, will be unprepared."

Pawn takes knight. "I see. So, was my summoning part of your overall planning then, Lord Darnic? A part of your preparations?" Caster asked.

"But of course. You, whose unparalleled genius transcended that of mankind itself, have been most integral to the building of my army of homunculi and golems. Plus, with the usage of the homunculi as the source of replenishing mana, you and the other servants of our faction will be free to utilize all your abilities to your heart's content without the risk of draining your masters dry, and allowing we, your masters to fully utilize our mage craft without fear."

"Indeed. I must say that such a scheme was a brilliant bit of ingenuity on your part."

"Coming from you, that is indeed high and lofty praise. Though, in answer to your earlier question, I am not entirely convinced that my faction will emerge as the victors just yet. It is yet early, and no plan ever truly survives the battlefield. However, I can say that I currently think the odds are stacked in our favor."

Darnic moved his queen, and took Caster's remaining knight. "With the servants that we summon tonight, I will be one step closer to attaining that which all of my kind seek: The Swirl of the Root, that which lies at the center of Existence itself, and the key to true Magic itself. Nothing, especially those worms of the Association, will stand in my way."

For a moment, Caster said nothing, and instead took Darnic's queen with his king, leaving the board bare, save for the two kings. It was a draw.

Then, the Polymath looked up at Darnic, and smiled. "In that case, I shall endeavor to help this faction, and you, attain your desires."

Then, the room's grandfather clock chimed twelve o'clock. Midnight.

At that, the door opened, and a young boy, no more than thirteen years of age, with a large mess of blonde hair on his head, entered. This was Roche, Caster's master. "Excuse me, Darnic, Master Da Vinci? The preparations are done. Everyone is ready."

With their invigorating game now at an end, Darnic stood up. "Come Caster. Lancer is waiting for us. It is time for the other Servants to be summoned."

A wide smile was now on Da Vinci's lips. "How exciting. I can't wait to meet our new teammates! Let us be away!"

* * *

Darnic and Da Vinci made their way to one of the castle's larger rooms, in which a throne was situated, along with a large floor, and the rest of the Black Faction.

Seated upon the room's throne was a figure who could one could only attribute with the moniker of "King." He was tall, regal, and clad in fine robes of sable. His hair was a light blonde with tips of blue-turquoise, matching his powerful eyes. His bearded mouth was set into a kingly expression of stern neutrality, and he raised his head slightly in greeting as Darnic and Da Vinci entered.

This figure was none other then Vlad III Tepes, the Prince and Savoir of Wallachia, the Impaling Lord, Scourge of the Ottoman Empire, and the Lancer Class Servant of the Black Faction.

The other members of the Black faction each held their respective catalysts as they stood in front of the collective summoning circle that had been drawn and etched into the marble floor. From his place beside the throne, Darnic observed the members of his extended family, as they readied for the summoning ritual.

Celenike Icecolle Fraga Yggdmillennia, a rather pretty woman of twenty-odd years with hair of grey interspersed with red stripes, and a pair of spectacles balanced upon her nose, produced a pair of metal earrings in her gloved hand for her summoning. These were from one of her parent bloodlines, a formerly isolated magi clan that, though they had not been in decline, had been slighted one too many times by the Association, and thus had agreed to be absorbed into the Yggdmillennia organization, albeit very reluctantly, and after much monetary and personal payment and negotiation. Celenike had been one the more promising results from the Icecolle and Fraga bloodlines mixing, upon Darnic's orders, of course. She, and her sibling, was quite adept at both Curses and Runecraft.

Darnic would have preferred that Celenike's younger sister be one of the faction's masters instead, all things considered, but, unlike her admittedly twisted older sibling, Bazett was stronger willed, and thus less easily controlled. Celenike was a rather simple creature, and thus, more easily maneuvered if her desires were sated and overlooked from time to time. Though, Darnic had asked Bazett to be present in the fortress, just in case Celenike had to be… removed, or if she perhaps fell in the War.

Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia, a rotund man of thirty-six years with blonde hair, and a small, waxed blonde mustache that was reminiscent of a famed British film star, held in his fist a ragged eye patch, simple in make and design, which had been supplied by Darnic himself, courtesy of the time that he had spent in a particular city on a particular island nation in the east, some decades ago. Despite a rather prodigious talent in alchemy, Gordes suffered from that unfortunate condition known worldwide as an overinflated ego, though, in Gordes' case, Darnic was surprised that the metaphorical balloon had not already burst years ago.

Darnic's young, and quite second rate grandson, Caules, a brown haired teenager with glasses, had been given a piece of ancient, crumbling stone, procured for him by his sister, Fiore, who, though wheelchair bound, was superior to her brother in nearly every way. This catalyst had been found along side her own; an ancient, arrowhead encrusted with dried blood. Despite its age, she still made sure to hold it with a thick glove, which would then have to be burned. One never took chances with the poison of a phantasmal beast, after all.

From the platform, Darnic, Da Vinci, and the kingly servant all watched with anticipation, as Celenike, Gordes, Caules, and Fiore each began to chant…

* * *

 _Stavropoleos Church Cemetery, Bucharest_

For a long moment, Kairi did nothing, except sit upon the tombstone and enjoy the acrid feel and taste of the nicotine smoke entering his lungs from the cancer stick. As he did, the necromancer stared at the catalyst that he had been given. To the average observer, it seemed like an ordinary piece of wood, old and well preserved. In a way, it was, but, according to the old man, it was also so much more. A fragment of the most important and famous object in history… the Round table.

The necromancer than turned his thoughts to why he was here, why he had been given the catalyst in the first place, and why he had etched the summoning circle into the ground of the graveyard.

The Holy Grail War, a secret bloodbath which was, for all intense purposes, a glorified battle royal between seven magi and the ancient heroes that they summoned, all for the chance at the ultimate prize; a Wish. It was the chance for the deepest desires of the victor's heart to become made manifest.

That was one hell of a thing to fight to the death for.

He glanced at the crimson seals on his hand, took one last drag before flicking away his spent cigarette, looked over the circle that he had etched into the ground one last time, adjusted his sunglasses, stretched out his hand, and began to recite the chant that he had been given by El-Melloi II…

* * *

 _Let silver and steel be the essence._

 _Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.  
Let Black/ Red be the color I pay tribute to.  
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.  
Let the four cardinal gates close.  
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate._

 _I hereby declare.  
Your body shall serve under me.  
My fate shall be your sword.  
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.  
If you will submit to this will and this reason…then answer!_

 _An oath shall be sworn here!  
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.  
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!_

 _From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,  
come forth from the ring of restraints,  
Protector of the Holy Balance!_

Then, with a great blue glow and flash, the ancient heroes of legend set foot in the living world once again.

* * *

Gordes' servant was a young-looking man of average height, dressed in a silver umanori and kimono, dark purple tabi, and simple geta with white haori pants and black tekkou upon his wrists, all of which was then covered by, and covered, an equally simple set of traditional yoroi armor of the same colors. Belted at his waist were two beautifully crafted katanas, one with a handle of red, and the other a handle of blue. The Servant's oddest features were his short silver hair, and the eye patch covering his right eye that resembled the one that Gordes had employed as a catalyst. Other than that, he seemed… unremarkable. Nothing about him seemed to mark him as special, at least on the surface. Indeed, were it not for his hair and eyepatch, his would be the kind of face that could easily get lost among a crowd.

A rather serene, almost bored expression adorned this Servant's face, as he gazed upon his rotund master, and the others in the room with some apparent disdain. A vein was already pulsing angrily on Gordes' forehead at the Servant's apparent disrespect.

Caules' servant was so large, that the boy had fallen backwards in some fright when the giant had appeared in front of him from the summoning circle. The being was almost three meters in height and packed with muscle. The beast's hair was a wild mane of fur-like hair that reached near the small of his back, interspersed with small braids wrapped in red bandages. It was clad only in a long red kilt-like piece of clothing covered in spiked iron plates, while clamped around each of its bare ankles was a ball and chain, like what was once used in chain gangs and prisons. This Servant's most noticeable features were the two enormous red horns that curved up from its head; its eyes, which were pure black, save for its crimson irises; the multitude of scars that covered its bare torso and iron band-covered arms; and, of course, the two ENORMOUS axes that he clutched in his hands. Caules definitely had taken notice of those right away!

The giant looked down upon his now somewhat terrified summoner with a subdued wisdom and knowing that seemed out of place within his beastly frame. All watched as Caules gingerly rose to his feet. The Servant then slowly exhaled, the sound like the bellows of a massive furnace. The brute seemed to give off an aura that was at once strong, unrelenting, and yet… also sad and lonely, like a whipped creature that had long ago resigned itself to its fate.

Standing before Celenike was a man who could not have been any older that his early twenties. He was tall, lean and muscular, like a wolfhound, and clad in knightly-looking armor that was a seamless collage of blue and brown steel and leather and chain and strange runes, over and under which were long, sky-blue robes of powerful leather and metal studs. A mighty cloak and fur hood of blue, trimmed and chased with gold and white and silver, clasped together with a golden brooch, helped to complete the ensemble and image of a powerful warrior-prince. Across his waist was a wide, white rope belt of scale-like links.

His hair was a deep cerulean, long, and tied back in a rough and messy wolf's tail, save for two thin bangs on his right temple, and one large one on his left. The Servant's left arm was gauntleted in metal, and his right lightly sheathed in a leather glove and vambrace. His ears were pierced with two pairs of earrings; one pair resembling the catalyst used to summon him, and the other simple, small rings. Hanging around his neck was a visible medallion finely wrought in the shape of a wolf's head clutching a crescent moon in its jaws. Under his red, slit eyes were intricate red markings that went down his cheeks. His left arm held an ordinary shield. Not one that contained a world, nor one that represented the ultimate protection of a distant utopia's fortress. It was just a simple, round, sturdy thing of metal, leather, and wood used to turn aside weapons both mighty and small.

This warrior gave off the impression of a mighty war-beast, one that was noble in mien and bearing, but could also be an absolute terror on the battlefield if the need arose. He looked about, and gave a flippant smirk at his fellow servants and the other masters, almost as if he were sizing them up for battle, while his shield dematerialized into blue motes, ready to be used at a later time.

Fiore's summoned servant was a tall man in somewhat archaic clothing. To everyone present, his very being was like that of an ancient forest: great, all encompassing, protective, and immeasurably wise. He was clean-shaven, tan-skinned, like those of mediterranean descent, and brown-haired. His face, though impassive, seemed warm, kind, and understanding. His most remarkable feature was that he had the lower body of a horse, thus marking him as a centaur. This feature seemed to surprise him, for some reason.

All the servants were now summoned. The Black Faction was near to completion.

Then, Lancer stood up from his throne. "I bid you all greetings, my fellow servants of the Black Faction. As per the agreements of our summoners, I shall now ask you all to reveal your true names, so that a modicum of trsut might be established between us."

The blue-haired man decided to go first, giving a flippant wave. "Yo. Name's Cu Chulainn. Rider class. Kinda wish I had been summoned as a Lancer, but I guess this version of me isn't so bad. Just point me in the enemy's direction, let me do my thing, and you'll win this war in no time!"

The one-eyed swordsman gave a polite bow at the waist. "Konbanwa, my friends. I am pleased to be among such esteemed company. I am simply a humble swordsman, Yagyu Jubei. I am honored to be fighting alongside such powerful warriors. I will do my best to be of use to you all in this strange Holy Grail War."

With a nod of greeting, the Rider, Cu Chulainn, then looked up at the white-haired behemoth that was Caules' servant, with an appraising glance. "How about you, big fella? You got a name?"

The Berserker-class Servant, for he could have been nothing else, looked down at them all for a moment, blinked, and then slowly spoke, as if each word were… not a chore, but more like he just did not speak very often. "Asterios."

The centaur gave a nod of his head, and a warm smile to all within the room. "Hello. I am Chiron. It is a pleasure to meet you all."

Caster was the next to speak. With a flourish of his unarmored arm, he doffed his cap, and then bowed deeply. "Greetings, one and all! I am greatly pleased to inform all present that you have the honor of working alongside the Great Artist of Italy, the Golden Man of the Renaissance, the Polymath of Tuscany, and The Genius of Vinci, himself. I am Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci, at your service as the Caster of the Black Faction!"

"Indeed," remarked Lancer. "It gladdens my heart to know that our faction is comprised of such mighty heroes. I am Vlad Tepes III, and I am the Lancer Class Servant of this Black Faction! Know that, with our combined power, we will easily be able to annihilate the Red Faction and their Servants. I look forward to your great and brave achievements, my proud and fearless heroes!"

With that, they all departed from the room.

* * *

Darnic and Lancer retired to Darnic's personal study, which he had graciously set aside for Lancer. As Darnic began to pour the infamous king a glass of red from his personal stores, they began to talk. "If I may inquire, my lord, what are your opinions on your new subordinates?"

"I find them to be most satisfactory, Darnic, especially our Rider and Saber. Such magnificent warriors, the pair of them!"

Indeed, the prowess of both Cu Chulainn and Yagyu Jubei could not be denied. The former was essentially the Irish version of Heracles, and the other was one of, if not the, greatest swordsman in the history of Japan.

With them as their frontline fighters, alongside the Berserker, Darnic felt quite assured that all would fall before the Black Faction's new might.

"Indeed. Ireland's Child of Light, Cu Chulainn; The Centaur Sage who taught many heroes, Chiron; The Greatest swordsman of Japan, Yagyu Jubei; The Bull of Minos, and monster of the Labyrinth of Daedalus, the Minotaur; and, of course, the Genius Renaissance man of Italy, Leonardo da Vinci. If only I had had such fine and powerful allies with me in my first life, than I would not have been taken prisoner, and I would not have been forced to shoulder the _disgusting_ name, or have it shackled to my legend."

Darnic knew better than to mention aloud that particular legend, spread by a certain author almost two centuries ago. Because of that, save for Romanina, where he was lauded as a great hero, Lancer was known throughout the world by another name and legend, that of the blood-sucking vampire, _Dracula_.

With an elegant motion befitting his status as a king, Lancer sipped at his beverage, though a slight frown now adorned his face.

"Is there something the matter, my Lord?"

"Nothing, save for the fact that our faction is not yet complete. We are still missing Assassin, after all."

"Yes, Jack the Ripper, the murderer that terrorized the Streets of White Chapel, and indeed the entirety of England, over a century ago, and was thus likened to a demon. But please, do not worry, my lord. She should be arriving with her master any time now. To make sure, I had dispatched the Zugzwang to escort them."

* * *

 _Bucharest_

On the upper floor of an upscale hotel in the city of Bucharest, there lay a gruesome sight. It was the sight of a desiccated corpse of a rather rat-like man with bleached-blonde hair, surrounded by the corpses of more men and women. Of course, any observer would be drawn to the fact that large, bloody holes were situated where their hearts were supposed to be, as well as the fact that the first man was missing his jaw and right hand. He looked like he had died in a great deal of agony, and not right away. The others seemed to have died from either massive blood loss or slit throats.

The unfortunate, jawless and handless man had once been known as Hyouma Sagara, a member of the Yggdmillennia, and the intended master of Assassin. Now, unfortunately (or, in dark sort of way, fortunately) he was quite dead, after many days of a tortured, prolonged existence. The other corpses had been members of the Zugzwang, the assassins of the Yggdmillennia, sent to locate him, now also quite dead.

Meanwhile, walking out of a dark Alleyway, towards the city's main train station, was an odd pair. One, a woman of 23 years with grayish-green hair, was dressed in a provocative green miniskirt and fur jacket, and seemed possessed of both a weathered beauty, and a disconcerting look in her eye. The other was a tiny child dressed in a rather pretty white sundress with oddly white hair and ice-blue eyes, while a happy smile adorned her face. The two were holding hands, like a mother and her child, while the woman rolled behind her a large rolling suitcase.

What made this sight more disturbing than it should ever have to be was the fact that the "little girl" was covered in stitched-up scars, including one leading down from her lower eye lid, as well as the fact that the right side of her face was liberally splashed with blood.

"That was a lot of fun mommy! Those souls were very tasty! We feel right good and full now!"

"That's wonderful, Jack. It makes me happy to see you smile."

"Well, it makes us happy that you're happy, mommy." The "girl" then licked some of the blood off of her lips with a grin. "Yummy."

Behind them, the corpse of their most recent victim lay sprawled out against a trash bin, like so much rubbish; once an ordinary, every day citizen, no more evil or good than anyone else, now just a motionless, savaged corpse.

"Oh dear," the older woman said suddenly, as they got closer to the station.

"What's wrong mommy?"

"I'm afraid that we may soon run out of tasty hearts for you. We'll have to get more soon."

"Okay, mommy."

The woman's grin then widened, and the sight of it would have sent chills down the spine of anyone unfortunate to cross their paths. "Luckily, I think I know where we can find some more."

"Yay!"

Upon her right hand, the woman's black command seals seemed to glow, like the empty space that lay between stars.

* * *

 _The next day_

In one of the many, richly decorated rooms of the Millennia Castle, Gordes sipped from his personal stash of expensive drinks, as a form of celebration, and then snapped his fingers.

"Saber! Appear before me."

In a flash of blue, the Servant did. "What do you require, Master?"

"I want to make something perfectly clear to you Saber. You currently exist only to fight for the glory of Yggdmillennia. In fact, you are nothing more than a glorified familiar, and you must obey my commands. All you have to do is fight, nothing else. Do you understand?"

Saber's one eye betrayed no emotion, but anyone more empathic would have recognized the disdain radiating from his entire being, and all of it aimed towards the portly master.

"Understood, _Master_."

There was nothing but silence for a moment, and then Gordes spoke up again.

"What is your wish, Saber?" Gordes asked of the Legendary Swordsman.

"Excuse me?" the Servant asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Your wish, you imbecile. You could not have been allowed to be summoned into a Holy Grail War unless there was something you desired above all else to wish for. So, tell me, what is it?"

"My wish?" Jubei looked out the window for a moment. "If you must know, that I suppose that it would be to no longer be remembered as a hero, and to simply wander."

Gordes nearly spat out his brandy in shock at that statement. "What? Are you shitting me, Saber? What kind of ridiculous wish is that?"

"I have no reason to explain my desires to you, master, nor would I ever expect you to understand. I am simply here to fight, as you said. Nothing more. Nonetheless, it is my wish."

The grinding of Gordes' teeth sounded like the grating of stones upon steel. "Utter foolishness. What sort of hero would want to erase his or her own legend? Are you just being difficult? Are you lying to me? You forget, I've seen your memories! I know what happened to you for those twelve years! Why would you want to erase any of that?"

In lieu of an answer, Saber's one visible eye simple narrowed, as if he were wordlessly reprimanding his master for daring to question his personal desires.

With a growl of displeasure and a wave, Gordes dismissed his Servant, and then took a long swallow of brandy as the swordsman vanished into blue motes.

What a stupid wish.

Despite that, Gordes was still… somewhat satisfied with his Servant. His stats were excellent, his skills exceedingly useful (including one in particular), his phantasms unbeatable, and the Servant was for the most part obedient to Gordes' command.

With the strongest servant at his side, Gordes would blaze his way to glory and victory, elevating the name of Clan Musik above all others. Yes, Gordes would win this war, and nothing was going to stand in his way!

* * *

Like any self-respecting castle/ fortress/ medieval age-era estate, there was a rather expansive dungeon located in the subterranean levels of the Millennia Castle. It was more that generously supplied with the usual items required for such an area to be called a "dungeon"; bars, chains attached to the walls of the cells, racks, torture rooms filled with an assorted of the required torture devices, etc…

Among the residents of the Fortress, it was an unspoken law that the dungeons were the domains of Celenike, and that one should never enter it when she was about the premises.

The reason for this was quite simple. Celenike was a woman driven by her desires. Unfortunately, those desires included such activities as the rape, torture, and murder of handsome men and "pretty boys," with the odd homunculus servant thrown into the horrific mess.

She preferred strapping her victims down to a table, and having her way with them, often while she dismembered them with sharp implements, as the current center of her attentions was now discovering, much to his bored disgust, though, thankfully, for her, she was not using the aforementioned bladed implements.

From the moment that he had clapped eyes on her, Rider could tell right away that his summoner was not the sort of woman who could ever be called "a good person." Hell, he had enough experience with such people, especially women, that it was nearly a sixth sense to him. This was strongly reinforced by his current position; strapped to a table, shirtless, while she slowly licked her way up his intricately tattooed chest, making rather creepy dog(?) noises all the while.

To The Hound of Chulainn, his current master actually reminded him a bit of his old teacher, at least superficially, in the fact that she was almost definitely a dark sorceress. Everything else about her, though, including the way that she was acting with him? Yeah, it was like that bitch Medb all over again. Fucking fantastic. Why was it that most of the women that he ever seemed to interact with but want nothing to do with were lust-filled psychos? Besides, he was a Servant, dammit, with a capital "S", and thus meant to fight other great heroes in glorious battles to the death! He was not a gods-damned sex toy!

With a sigh, he broke the restraints holding him to the rack with unthinking ease, and got up, gently pushing his creepy master off, before wiping off the trail of spittle from his chest and stomach. Gross. "Look, I get that you're the kind of person that's into this sort of thing, but, well, I'm not. So, if you'll excuse me…"

She looked up at him in confusion, as he got to his feet and put on his shirt. "What? Where are you going, Rider?"

"Gonna look around. Ya know, get a lay of the land, and find defensible positions, all the jazz? So, see ya later. Let me know when we're ready to fight, cause I really don't want to be down here again."

With a lazy, flippant wave, he walked out the door, closing it behind him as he left.

Celenike watched him as he departed, her eyes glued to his lean and broad back. With a blush on her cheeks, and a hungry look in her spectacled eyes, she began to groan in desire as she… _rubbed_ herself.

"Oh, Rider. You're going to be _mine_. I'll never let you go. I'll hold on to you _forever_. I can't wait to hear you scream, Child of Light. I'm going to make you _mine!_ "

* * *

With a crack of his neck, Rider exited from the dungeon. He needed some fresh air, a good walk, a spar with one of the other servants… and also maybe a bath. Yes, a bath would help, a lot. There was a river nearby, right? Or maybe, he could try one of those "showers" he had learned about from the grail.

"Excuse me."

The voice shook him from his thoughts, and he turned to behold a woman about the age he had been when he died, if maybe a year or two younger. Her short, pageboy style hair was a light maroon and her eyes were a deep brown. She was dressed in a rather masculine fashion, and had a single mole under her eye.

To Rider's slight disgust, she had a slight resemblance to his Master, but he then decided that he would reserve judgment until they actually spoke.

"Yeah?" he asked.

She said nothing for a moment, almost as if she were trying to work up her courage. "Cat got your tongue, girl?"

"No. Sorry, it's just… you're you!"

"Yeah, last time I checked."

"Again, sorry. It's just that I've always loved your legend, ever since I was a little girl. I mean, you're Cu fucking Chulainn! The man who held off entire armies, even after you were dead!"

Huh, so she was a fan. That was… better? "What's your name, lady?"

"It's Bazett, Bazett Fraga Icecolle Yggdmillennia, and, unfortunately… your "master" is my older sister."

Ah, so that explained the resemblance. Well, he wouldn't hold that against her. "So, tell me more about yourself, miss Bazett…"

As the heroic spirit and the spirited woman began to chat, mostly about runes and combat, Cu Chulainn felt that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Unbeknownst to them, Celenike was watching the two begin to bond, and an unhealthy expression began to form in her eyes and on her face…

* * *

Down below, beneath even the dungeons, was a large, expansive laboratory that seemed to stretch on for a good few miles, and would not have looked out of place in a science fiction movie or novel or comic. A generous portion of this space was taken up by strange vessels connected to the by a plethora of wires. Within each of these vessels floated a sleeping humanoid floating in green fluid. The other portion resembled more of a large hanger, complete with metal scaffolding, walkways, cranes, and such. Here, there was continuous construction of beings made from metal and stone and marble that were large, small, bulky, and lean.

This expansive area was where the Yggdmillennia, with Caster's genius assistance, Roche's clan's knowledge, and the techniques and knowledge that Gorde's ancestors had pilfered from the Einzberns, had been constructing and growing their armies of golems and homunculi.

Roche was a rather small boy of about thirteen years, and was already a true prodigy of his craft. Caster felt slightly honored to have been summoned by a fellow prodigy.

Unfortunately for the Renaissance man, Roche was also not a person who valued human relationships very much. As such, the young boy looked upon the Servant of the Spell as a student may a teacher, but nothing else. Any attempts the Leonardo made to become friends with the boy were awkwardly rebuffed.

After a while, the Golden Man had decided to put aside his attempts at forging a friendship with his master for the time being, and focus on the tasks that Darnic had asked of him.

Despite the fact that the Lord of Yggdmillennia's personality, and indeed, very being, rubbed Da Vinci the wrong way (like he wouldn't have found out about that massacre!), the legendary artist had found his goals and _most_ of his methods too intriguing to pass up, though, Leonardo did still feel a bit uneasy with the homunculi's role in this strange Grail War.

As such, he tried to make sure that each of the homunculi was as full developed as possible, with a full and normal lifespan. Even batteries should be allowed to be beautiful and long lasting, after all!

A small retinue of homunculi, each either a beautifully handsome man or a handsomely beautiful woman, as according to the artist's personal tastes, followed the Servant about, carrying out his instructions to the letter, and listening attentively to his orders. He had chosen these specifically, due to their innate talent, and, yes, their appearances. Indeed, he had even given them names; some he named after past lovers, and others he had bequeathed the names of friends from his past.

Yes, he had had female lovers, in his first life, along side the men. To the Genius of Vinci, gender had never been something that had mattered to him in the slightest. Only beauty had ever truly captivated him, and beauty always came in all shapes and sizes. As such, he had pursued that ideal all his life, and had attained it in various, though sadly incomplete forms.

Shaking his head, he refocused his attentions on the tasks at hand.

"Status report, Salai," he inquired of one of them, a male.

"The next combat batch has been successfully retrieved from the tanks, Master Da Vinci. They have already been clothed, and are ready."

"Very good, very good, darling. Isabella, dear, have you anything to add?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, some of the battery homunucli have not survived. They died upon being removed from their tanks. Some did not even make it that far," she replied.

"Hmm. Must have been from some of the earlier batches. I should have fixed that defect sooner. Very well. Make sure they are buried with some dignity. Then make sure that the next sets of golems are completed and totally operational. We need several more batches ready within the next few days. Ask Roche if you need any assistance on that front."

"Very good, Master Da Vinci."

So much to do, so many things to finish, so much excitement! Any lesser human would have buckled under the strain, but, unlike them, Da Vinci was a genius! With that great genius, he would help push the Black Faction of the Great Grail War straight towards the gleaming spires of victory!

After that, when the Red Faction was defeated… well, he would deal with that when the time came.

Plus, one of his familiars had reported strange activity in a few of the neighboring cities. He would have to investigate!

On his shoulder, his bird cooed and trilled again…

* * *

Almost a day had passed since the summoning ritual, and, to Caules' slight shame, he had been unsure on how to approach the massive giant, and so had left Berserker alone for a good bit. Though, in his defense, how did one approach a three meter-tall giant who could crush your head with two fingers, as a well as the fact that said ten foot-tall, head crushing giant was the Berserker class, a servant not known for it's restraint or overall sanity?

Nevertheless, today, the teen had decided to be more proactive, and try to get at least a measure of his new servant's abilities. As such, he was now out on one of the fields surrounding Millennia Castle, setting up inactive golems that Caster and Roche had deemed unusable.

Meanwhile, his Berserker servant simply stood upon one of the area's small, flower covered hills, watching his master with unblinking, red-and-black eyes.

To Caules' surprise, that same hill was where the giant had been all of the night and morning. Simply sitting, and looking around in strange wonder at the sky and his surroundings.

It made sense to the bespectacled backup magus, considering what he had gleaned from the Dream Cycle the night before.

Asterios, the bastard offspring of King Minos' wife, Queen Pasiphae, and a bull; Asterios, whose conception and birth had been the result of a curse bestowed upon the king of Crete by the sea god, Poseidon. After the child's birth, Minos had had him imprisoned in an endless, unsolvable maze, constructed by the famed architect, Daedalus. That labyrinth had been the child's entire world, where his only nourishment had been the forced sacrifices of Athens. In time, the child had grown into a man-eater, and had been given another name, the only one that had ever been recorded in the annals of history: Minotauros, otherwise known as the bull of Minos, the Minotaur of Crete.

"Are you ready, Asterios?"

He saw the giant slowly nod, as his massive axes materialized into his hands. "Right, now, attack! Show me what you can do."

After waiting for Caules to get to a safe distance, Berserker attacked.

He seemed like a blur of muscle. When he struck, such was the strength of his blows that the golems were _pulverized_ into fine dust. He did not even notice when an errant piece of stone bounced off his horned head.

A few moments later, all the golems had been destroyed, with Berserker standing among the ruins. "Okay Berserker, that's enough. That was a great display!"

At that, he watched as his Servant slowly walked back to his little hill and sat down with a loud thump.

Anyone else would have just treated the Servant with fear, or as simply a blunt weapon to be pointed and let loose at the enemy. Not Caules, though. Not after that moment he had witnessed in the dream cycle.

 _He had finally done it! Years of memorizing all the twists and turns of his home and prison. Now here it was, the way out! He could be free!_

 _It was so bright! So big! So… much… so much more than what he, a monster, deserved…._

In the dream, Caules had watched as Asterios had finally found a way out of the Labyrinth. Freedom had been right in front of him. But, instead of taking it, the Master had watched in shock as the Berserker had simply turned around, and then headed back, back into his prison.

Caules had felt the guilt radiating from his Servant's memories in that moment, guilt at how a monster like him, who had killed and eaten so many people in order to survive, had not deserved freedom, only death upon the sword of a hero, which he had finally gotten, at the hands of a sorrowful and understanding Theseus.

It was at the moment in the Dream Cycle that Caules had realized that this Servant was not a mindless brute, but instead simply a sad and pitiful being who had only wanted to die out of guilt for all that he had been forced to do in order to survive. Therefore, Berserker, no, _Asterios_ , did not deserve to be treated as one. Instead, he deserved at least some compassion.

It was admittedly not the proper mindset of a magus, but, to Caules, it was simply the right thing to do.

Besides, he figured that if he did try and treat Berserker like shit, then it would not end well at all!

Though, there was still the question of his Noble Phantasm. While, on one hand, Calues was glad that it was not a Suicide-type, on the other hand, **Chaos Labyrinthos** , being an EX-ranked phantasm, was not something that could be easily used.

"Asterios, from here on, do not use your Noble Phantasm unless I order you to. Do you understand?"

The behemoth blinked once, and then nodded.

* * *

This tea was quite good, mused Chiron, as he sipped at the beverage. He had to admit when he had been summoned, not only he had been summoned to a team, which was unheard of, but also now, here silent homunculi maids were serving him tea with his master. While he had never actually been treated poorly in previous grail wars, per se, but nor had he been treated so kindly. He had to lie upon the floor since, for some reason, he had been unable to disguise himself into a fully human shape.

"I hope you like your drink, Archer," his master said, as she sipped at her beverage.

"Indeed, it is quite delicious, as are the pastries. I must compliment your fine taste in beverages and food."

To his surprise, she actually blushed and smiled nervously.

As they continued to eat and drink, the centaur sage studied his summoner. She was pretty, if somewhat small. Her brown wavy hair was long and well cared for, and her eyes were clear, blue, and kind. In fact, despite her immense talent, her whole demeanor was not that of a magus at all, not that he minded.

Her most obvious feature was, of course, the fact that she was wheelchair bound, with her legs being motionless and slightly twisted. He did hope that it would not hamper her performance during the War.

"If I may be so bold as to ask, Master…?"

"Hm? Oh, please, call me Fiore."

Very unlike a magus, he thought with a smile. "Very well. I was wondering what your wish for the Holy Grail was, Fiore."

To his surprise, she actually looked a bit embarrassed, and turned her head away fro a moment. "You may thing it selfish, but I wish to gain full function of my legs, while keeping my magecraft. When I was born, there was a malfunction in my mage circuits, which left my legs crippled. There are ways for them to be healed, but… they would require me to give up my existence as a magus. I guess I just want the best of both worlds, as it were. I'm sorry if you think that a selfish thing, Chiron."

She had felt ashamed at such an innocent wish? Remarkable. "There is no need to worry yourself, Mas… Fiore, for yours is no more selfish than mine. My wish is to regain the immortality that I gave up when I died. Not because I desire to be a god, mind you, but because it was the only thing that my parents ever gave me. So, as I said, do not be ashamed of your wish."

She smiled at that, and then actually chuckled, and raised her teacup. "To selfish wishes, then, Chiron?"

He returned her smile, and raised his own cup. "To selfish wishes, Fiore."

The clink of their cups rang out like laughter on a sunny spring day.

* * *

 _Unknown area of Romania_

El-Melloi finished the circle, and set the catalyst down in front of it, while Flat and the others waited, prepared, and watched.

For a moment afterwards, the Lord did nothing but look upon the symbol etched into his hand, its glow reminding him of the color of that endless ocean. Was he truly willing to go down this path once again, with all the hardships and pain that could result from it?

A moment later, he clenched his fist. Yes. Always.

With that, he stretched out his hand, and began to chant, just as the others did….

 _Let silver and steel be the essence.  
Let the stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation  
Let Blue be the color that I pay tribute to.  
Let a wall be raised against the wind that shall fall.  
Let the four cardinal gates close.  
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate._

 _I hereby declare.  
Your body shall serve under me.  
My fate shall be your sword.  
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.  
If you will submit to this will and this reason…then answer!_

 _An oath shall be sworn here!  
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.  
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!_

 _From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,  
come forth from the ring of restraints,  
Protector of the Holy Balance!_

A moment later, as the glow from his circle faded, boisterous laughter could be heard echoing throughout the night air.

 **Servants of Black** :

Saber: Yagyu Jubei

Master Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia

Strength: B

Agility: A++

Endurance: B

Mana: B

Luck: A

Noble phantasm: A+

 **Class skills.**

Magic Resistance: A

Has a rather high Magic Resistance, especially in comparison to that of his father's. The reason for why this is unknown, and Juubei himself doesn't seem to know why that is. Cancel spells of A rank or lower, no matter what High-Thaumaturgy it is.

Riding: B

Juubei wasn't someone noted for his skill in riding, even choosing to walk rather than ride more times than not. It is only because of his training that he doesn't have a lower rank in this skill. Most vehicles and animals can be handled with above average skill. However, he can't ride members of Phantasmal Species such as Monstrous Beasts.

 **Personal Skills.**

Information Erasure: A-

Juubei is noted to not have nearly as much information about him in the Yagyu family's extensive family records, as well as disappearing all together for 12 years. What he was doing during this 12 years period, or why so little is written about him in the family records, is something that has eluded historians for years. All information involving Juubei will be erased as soon as one loses sight of him, even recordings through devices such as cameras. Even evidence that can tie to his identity is also removed. However, this skill is less effective if he tells someone his true name voluntarily, otherwise is only his master free from this effect.

Shinkage-ryuu: A+++

Juubei, much like his father, was taught about the sword from his father since birth, and showed clear signs of being a prodigy very early on. Already at the age of 24 was it stated that he was the clan's greatest swordsman, which is a tough accomplishment when one considers his father's skill with the sword. He would later contribute greatly to the Shinkage-ryuu after having mastered it, evolving the art further, and even create his own technique: Chie-no-Ken. Juubei doesn't only possess sword techniques, but also a resistance to mental attacks and interference. At this rank has one mastered all that comprises the Yagyu Shinkage-ryuu, even reaching the mental state Suigetsu, without the skill.

Ninjutsu: C++

One theory about what happened with Juubei during the 12 years he disappeared from records is that he was recruited as a ninja to the Tokugawa Shogunate for a time. Whether this is true or not is anybody's guess, but he did learn the art at some point, and was quite proficient in all their 18 disciplines. Juubei was however never trained in any of the mayor schools such as Iga, Koga and Fuma, and is therefore unable to have a higher ranking in this skill.

Mystic Eyes: A

Juubei possess a Mystic Eye that is in a way similar to Musashi's Empyrean Eye, but is fundamentally different. It allows Juubei to change events from his perpective up to a single instant in time, allowing him to make actions that the opponent can't predict. For example can he change events so that his sword is being swung - despite still being in its sheath - and place it the moment before it would make contact with the opponent's body, making the attack inevitable. However, this puts a huge strain on his body, which grows greater the more events he need to change, as his body is forced to move close to instantaneously. He keeps it in check with his eyepatch, Mystic Eyes Killer.

Noble phantasms.

Juuchi Yosamu: A+ (Anti-Unit). One of two swords that Juubei came across at some point during the 12 years period he disappeared from records. It is a sword forged by Sengo Muramasa, supposed to be used in a competition against his mentor, Masamune. Something should be impossible, as they didn't live at the same time and couldn't possibly have met. It is a master piece of Japanese swords, and one of his closest creations to accomplish his goal, while also failing.

Juuchi Yosamu is a beautiful katana that seems to radiate bloodlust from itself when drawn from its sheath. When using this sword, the blade cuts the opponent by 'freezing' the flow of life and severing the body. What this means is that Juuchi Yosamu freezes natural energies at the point of contac (preventing any kind of restoration) and cuts the body, creating a wound that will never heal. Even if the severed limb were to be surgically reattached, it would be impossible to use the limb normally as the wound is a suspension of time at the point of injury.

When speaking the true name of Juuchi Yosamu will it transform into the pinnacle of its concept from legend, 'That Which Cuts Everything'. For a single stroke can it 'cut' anything, whether it is a physical target or metaphysical concepts such as causality. All defenses become nothing in its path, being as easily 'cut' as everything else that gets in Juuchi Yosamu's path.

Yawarakai-Te: A+. Anti-Unit, Anti-Unit (Self). The other sword that Juubei came across during the 12 years he disappeared. It is the sword that Masamune is supposed to have forged to compete against his student, Muramasa. Which, once again, should be impossible, as Masamune died before Muramasa was even born.

Yawarakai-Te is a beautiful katana that doesn't radiate any kind of emotion like Juuchi Yosamu, appearing serene when compared to its counterpart. It possesses a passive ability, which prevents it from cutting anything that has caused no harm to man while dealing extra damage to those who have. Furthermore, the blade also possesses the ability to disperse the energy of all attacks and defenses that come into contact with its blade into the surrounding atmosphere. This not only makes the sword an excellent defensive tool (as it reduces attacks to less than standard physical force) but a fearsome offensive tool as well since it can bypass magical defenses with ease.

When speaking its true name Yawarakai-Te will create a Bounded field around Juubei's body that will continuesly heal any damage he experience while it's active. This Bounded field is holy in origin, granting him an increased resistance against curses. Juubei becomes unable to use Juuchi Yosamu while this is in effect however.

(A/N. This Servant was the brainchild of Library of the mind, who has graciously allowed me to use this in my story.)

* * *

Lancer: Vlad III

Master: Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia

 **Stats**

STR: B

END: B

AGI: A

MAN: A

LCK: D

NP: A

 **Class Skills:**

Magic Resistance: B

Charisma: B

Riding: B+ (Due to his being summoned in Romania, with his fame boost)

 **Personal Skills**

Demonic Defender of the State: EX

Protection of the Faith: A+++

Battle Continuation: A

Military Tactics: B

 **Noble Phantasm(s)**

Kazikli Bey: B

Legend of Dracula: A+

* * *

Archer: Chiron

Master: Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia

 **Stats**

STR: B

END: A

AGI: A++

MAN: B

LCK: C

NP: A

 **Class skills**

Independent Action: A

Magic Resistance: B

Divinity: C

 **Persona Skills**

Clairvoyance: B+

Eye of the Mind (True): A

Consecration of Eternal Life: C

Wisdom of Divine Gift: A+

 **Noble Phantasm**

Antares Snipe: A

* * *

Rider: Cu Chulainn

Master: Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia

 **Stats**

STR: A+

END: B+

AGI: A+

MAN: A

LCK: D

NP: A

 **Class Skills**

Riding: A+

Magic Resistance: B

Divinity: B

Independent Action: B

 **Personal Skills**

Battle Continuation: A

Sage of the Forest: A (Combines Territory creation and Primordial Rune)

Protection from Arrows: A

Blessing of Wakefulness: C (Combines natural body and disengage)

Double Summon: B (Rider and Caster)

 **Noble phantasms**

Ochd Deug Odin: A

Phantom Chariot: A. Chulainn's legendary chariot, the only one he could ride without breaking. Gives Cu Chulainn access to many weapons, including a bow and arrows, a sword, his spear, and many others.

Gae-Bolg: B: Due to not being summoned as Lancer, Gae Bolg can reverse causality, but has lost it's anti unit ability, unless certain conditions are met, which include Rider reinforcing the weapon with the runes of Ochd Deug Odin, thus limiting it to once per night.

Wicker-Man: B

Riastrad: A+

In essence, Rider Cu Chulainn summoned in Western Europe makes him a near perfect foil to Achilles. Were he to be summoned in Ireland, as a lancer, he would be near unstoppable.

* * *

Berserker: Asterios

Master: Caules Forvedge Yggdmillennia

 **Stats**

STR: A++

END: A++

AGI: C

MAN: D

LCK: E

NP: EX

 **Class Skills**

Mad Enhancement: B

Independent Action: A

 **Personal Skills**

Monstrous Strength: A

Natural Monster: A++

Avyssos of Labrys: C

Natural Direction: A. Due to spending his whole life in a Labyrinth, Asterios will never get lost, and will instinctively know how to navigate one.

 **Noble Phantasm:**

Chaos Labyrinthos: EX

* * *

Caster: Da Vinci

Master: Roche Frain Yggdmillennia

 **Stats**

STR: E

END: E

AGI: C

MAN: A+

LCK: B

NP: EX

 **Class Skills**

Item Construction: EX

Territory Creation: A

 **Personal Skills**

Natural Born Genius: EX

Pioneer of the Stars: EX

Natural Connection to the Root: ? (Combines High Speed divine words, Magecraft, Witchcraft, High Speed-Incantation)

Self-Modification (Beauty): EX

 **Noble Phantasm**

Uomo Universale: EX

* * *

Assassin: Jack the Ripper

Master: Reika Rikudou

Former Master: Sagara Hyouma

 **Stats**

STR: C

END: C

AGI: A

MAN: C

LCK: E

NP: C

 **Class Skills**

Presence Concealment: A+

Mad Enhancement: C

 **Personal Skills**

Murderer of the Misty Night: A

Mental Pollution: C

Information Erasure: B

Surgical Procedure: E

 **Noble Phantasm(s)**

Maria the Ripper: D-B

The Mist: C

 **A/N New story time. Please be kind and read and review.**


	2. Chapter 2

Blood, Obsidian, Ocean Chapter 2

It was a bit of a long drive to the meeting place, as detailed by Old Man Belfaban, Kairi mused. Though, after the bit of excitement from last night, he decided to enjoy this bit of monotony. It was probably going to be a while before he experienced such a boring, peaceful moment again.

Of course, it had not been much of a silent ride. His new companion, and passenger, had barely been quiet the entire time. Indeed, she was like an excitable, somewhat petulant child, in that she kept pestering him every now and then during the drive.

"Are we there yet, Master?"

"Almost, just be a bit more patient."

"You said that like, hours ago."

"It was only half an hour ago, at most. Like I said, just be patient."

"Fine, but only if we get something to eat afterwards, Master."

"Sure, sure."

As he drove, the necromancer considered his Saber-Class Servant, and their introduction to one another the previous night.

The girl, though she refused to be termed as such, to an almost homicidal degree, was a little over average height, but not to a noticeably absurd amount. Here eyes were like emeralds, and her hair the color of dirty straw. When she had appeared before him, last night in the graveyard, she had been garbed in red plate armor, and an all-encompassing helmet, which had folded and collapsed to reveal her physical gender, and she had declared her class and identity, which was Mordred Pendragon, The illegitimate child of the king of Knights.

At first, they had chatted fro a moment, and then, the next thing the necromancer had known, after he had accidently referred to her as a girl, and that he had summoned her with a piece of the Round Table, her face had contorted in rage, followed by her turning and smashing the Round Table fragment to smithereens, and then putting her rather large sword to his neck, all in the space of three seconds, before demanding that he never call her female again, asking what his intentions were, and all the while loudly declaring that she, Mordred Pendragon, was, and would be, the only knight to ever surpass her father, the legendary Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon.

So yeah, that had been a fun night, all in all.

Despite all of that, for some reason, he had the feeling that they were going to get along swimmingly. She was kind of like a child, really.

Afterwards, they had retired to his cemetery campsite for the night, which she had complained about for a bit.

Now, after watching her down a rather large breakfast, they were on their way to meet Kairi's appointed contact, another master of the Red Faction.

A while later, they had arrived at the meeting spot, The _Biserica din Deal_ , the Church on the Hill, one of the more well known spots located within the city of Sighisoara.

The famed dome-roofed church was of the sort that, though rather large in size and area, did not seem too ostentatious. Instead, something about the area radiated an almost timeless quality, and with that, a strange sense of calm.

The interior was spacious, with the eye of course being drawn to the modest altar and the lovely pane glass window in its center. Standing before the altar was the man that Kairi had been instructed by El-Melloi II and Old Man Belfaban to meet.

The man, the priest in fact, could not have been any older than his early twenties, at most. His skin was the color of burnt caramel, as if he had spent a great deal of time laboring under the sun. His eyes were a surprising gold color, and his spikey hair was as white as snow, an odd feature for one so youthful in appearance. His smile should have been something that was disingenuous, yet wasn't, which made it all the more disquieting to the Necromancer. "Welcome," he said in a voice that would have put a charging rhino at ease. "Thank you for coming, Kairi Sisigou. I am Shirou Kotomine. Like you, I am a master of the Red Faction."

Suddenly, Saber materialized in full armor in front of Kairi.

"Saber?"

"I'm sorry, Master. Something's not right."

Kotomine kept smiling, and held up his right hand, revealing three bright red marks shining against his tanned skin. "It is fine. I suppose it's only fair that I reveal to you my servant as well. As I just stated, I too am a master of the Red Faction."

Materializing next to him was a person whom Kairi could only describe as being a great and dangerous beauty. Her black hair seemed to reach down past her ankles, and she was clothed in a low-cut ebony dress that comprised of equal parts feathers and black satin and lace and gold trimming. Her eyes were the same color as the priest's, only slit like a cat's, and her ears pointed, like those of an elf's from a storybook.

She looked upon Kairi and Saber with amusement, and her delicate pink lips quirked upwards in slight mocking. "Greetings, I am Assassin of Red. My true name is Semiramis. We're counting on you, Mr. Sisigou," she said, in a husky voice that promised intimate secrets and death to all who listened. She then looked right at Saber, who stiffened, and gave a smirk at the knight's apparent discomfort.

In response, the helmed knight growled and began to call forth her red sword to her hand, only for Kairi to stop with a gesture.

Ignoring the fact that violence had almost erupted, the smiling priest gestured to one of the pews. "Come, Mr. Sisigou. Sit. I believe that we have much to discuss."

With some reluctance, the necromancer did, with Saber remaining by his side. The priest then took a seat to the mercenary's left, while the beautiful Assassin remained standing, and smirking in Saber's direction.

The priest then spoke. "From the intelligence that we managed to gather, the Black Faction has already summoned their servants, and are assembled within Millennia Castle."

"Any idea as to their identities?"

"A few theories, though nothing concrete as of yet, save for their Lancer, who may end up being our biggest concern in this War. Though, I do believe you may have already guessed as his identity as well."

"Yeah. So, they managed to summon him after all, huh?"

"Indeed. Vlad Tepes III. As you are no doubt aware, a heroic spirit's power when summoned is greatly influenced by a number of factors, among which is that of how renown their legend is in a given area. So, of course here, in the land of Romania, he would have been summoned as a hero, near the height of his power, and not as the vampire, Dracula."

"I guess he's going to be a tough nut to crack. And what about our servants? How are they?"

The priest smiled again. "Well, in terms of quality, they all seem to be fairly outstanding, and I can honestly say that we will have more than a fair fighting chance, even against the black faction's Lancer."

Kairi then looked in Assassin's direction, who then answered with a flirtatious smile and dignified chuckle. "Hm. Guess that sounds about right."

Then, Kotomine's face grew… pensive? "Oddly enough, though, the summoning of a Ruler Class has not been confirmed as of yet."

"Ruler class?"

"Yes, the eighth class, and the fifteenth servant in this variation of the Holy Grail War. The Ruler-class Servant is responsible for overseeing the Grail War, making sure that everything is kept along a certain course, if you will, as well as making sure that none of the contestants get too out of hand, or break the rules and guidelines. Of course, the fact that one has not yet arrived is… disconcerting. But, for now, it is of no great consequence."

Kairi processed the information for a moment, and then shrugged. He was just here to compete and win, after all.

The priest smiled again, and rose from the pew. "Now then, why don't we join up with the other masters?"

Kairi shook his head. "I don't need to meet the others."

"You don't?"

"We're just going to handle things on our own. Since Saber has enough power to battle solo, I'm sure we'll be fine."

The priest's smile did not grow or lessen, though it did adopt a confused bent to it. "Do you not work well in groups, Mr. Sisigou?"

Kairi was quiet for a moment, as memories of being shot at by a sorrowful man he had been foolish enough to trust briefly filled his mind. "Yeah. I guess you can say that."

The Necromancer than stood up from the pew, and slowly began to walk towards the door, while Saber swiftly astralized herself. "Well, thanks for the info, Mr. Priest, but we should get going. Come on, Saber."

The Assassin then spoke. "The enemy has completely established itself as an army here. Moving around in their territory of your own accord will all but guarantee that we will suffer more than a few inconveniences down the road, and yet, you two still intend to leave?"

"That's right. Guess we're not exactly what one could call "team players." My apologies. But, if it makes you feel any better, we'll keep in touch if needed. See ya around."

With a lazy wave, Kairi exited the church, with Saber following in spirit form, while the heavy doors closed behind them.

As Kairi walked along the paved stone path, he lifted his head. "Are they following us?"

"No," Saber replied. "They're not. Even an assassin has to materialize before launching an attack. I would not miss something like that."

"Thanks. Good to know."

"Master, if I may, why did you not wish to team up with them? There is sometimes safety in numbers."

"Simple. You didn't want to, right?"

"Yeah…it's just a hunch, but that Semiramis woman… she had the same smell as my mother. In other words, she's the type of person who should never be trusted, especially in a War." As they spoke, the Necromancer began to descend a flight of outdoor stairs leading towards the main town.

Kairi smirked. "Then I made the right decision. I have faith in your instincts."

"I appreciate it. I am quite relieved that my master is smart enough to not be misled by deceitful people. Though, only a little bit, mind you."

"Well, thanks Saber."

They exited into the main town, and headed towards where Kairi had parked the car. "Alright," the Necromancer said. "It's time to head to Trifas."

"Oh, before that, I have a favor to ask of you."

"A favor?"

* * *

As the Necromancer and Saber left, Shirou let out a chuckle. "It would seem that they don't trust us."

Assassin sighed in response. "Surely, it was in no way my fault."

"No. Though, it was a shame that we could not learn Saber's true name either. It may have been protected by a Noble Phantasm."

"So, now what? I personally believe that they should be dealt with quickly, you know?" As she spoke, the Empress of Assyria made a throat-slitting gesture with her thumb."

"No, that should not be necessary. Those two also desire to reach the Holy Grail, which means they are our allies, at least for the moment."

"Then I must hurry with the completion of the Garden."

"Indeed. I've heard that the ritual will be completed within the next few days."

"Correct. For now…"

She was then interrupted by the sound of two voices, as the church doors behind her were slammed open. "Oh gosh! We sure hope that is the case, old empress mermaid hag of Assyria! It would be just awful if it wasn't!" "Si, si! That better be the case!"

Shirou and Assassin turned towards the sources of the voice, the former with wary bemusement, and the latter with open disgust.

The two figures were child-like in size and appearance, and indeed, could have been mistaken for fraternal twins.

The girl had long white hair, with a dark ribbon in it, which reached her ankles, and, inexplicably, her hair had a skull-like design near its bottom. Her big eyes were brown, and innocent seeming. Her attire, which was rather inappropriate for someone of her apparent physical age, consisted of a short skit, a vertically striped top, and a visible garter belt that connected to stockings and shoes, both of which were adorned with eye and teeth-like designs. Completing the bizarre ensemble was a pair of long, finger-less gloves that went almost up to her shoulders, and a parasol, which was currently being twirled about in the aforementioned hands.

Her companion, the boy, had the same coloring, though his attire was like that of a more gentlemanly age, along with elegantly kept hair cut pageboy style. The image was somewhat ruined by the extra-large bag of potato chips that was clutched in his hand, the contents of which he was currently shoveling into his mouth between sentences with a happy gusto.

Outwardly, they were like children, yet, within the perpetually creepy eyes of these beings lurked a terrible and frightful intelligence that could only be described as "ancient," "sadistic" and utterly "evil," especially when one considered the peculiarities of Caster's summoning.

"So, it seems like the meeting with Saber and her gorilla master went badly, huh?" "How very sad. Though, for a fake priest like you, we shouldn't be surprised!" The two then both giggled.

Shirou chuckled. "Hello, Francisca, Caster."

Assassin was less generous in her mood. "What do you two _things_ want?"

"Gosh! Such a rude word to call us, you old ugly meanie hag!" "Si, si! A very rude word indeed!" "After all, we're just two adorable, lovable children who should be ever pampered and protected, hehehehehe!"

"Enough! What is it?"

"Not much, not much. All the sacrifices have been prepared…" "Si, si!" "The other servants are all ready…" "Si, si!" The two then looked at one another, and then spoke at the same time, as if they were one mind in two bodies. "Also, Spartacus is currently rampaging his way straight towards the Black Faction's headquarters, and it may or not be our fault! Hehehehehehe!"

"WHAT?"

"Yep, yep, yep! That big brute just went stomping off like an angry herd of bison." "He wants to storm the castle!" "It's like a dog chasing after a bone!" "It's very funny to watch!" "Si, si." "Reminds us of the Crusades!"

The two then grabbed each other by the hands, and started doing a ring-around the rosy dance. "Imagine it! That large, muscle-bound brute, tearing his way through the country side, all in the pursuit of one goal." "Si, si. I hope that he murders and destroys everything in his way! Wouldn't that be fun, sister Francisca?" "Yep, yep, yep, it would be, brother François. All that bloodshed would be just a bunch of super-duper fun to watch!"

Shirou simply chuckled at the antics of the odd and unsettling pair, while Assassin sighed in disgust, pinching the bridge of her well-shaped nose as she did so. "Ugh. You two…"

* * *

 _Forest around Sighisoara_

Gheorghe Agarici had lived in Sighisoara all his life. It was where he had been born, where he grew up, apart from a few years in America going to College, and it was even where he had met his wife with whom he had been married to for thirty long, happy, and invigorating years.

Their anniversary was coming up, and he wanted to surprise her with a nice dinner of freshly caught venison, which was why he was now out here, in the early hours of the dawn, with a rifle, so as to bag their anniversary dinner meal. He figured it would be paired best with some wild rice and fresh greens.

It had taken Gheorge a while, but thanks to the lessons his own father had taught him, he had finally managed to find a nice deer. Not too old, but not too young. This one did not seem to have any progeny, which was good, for he too had cried during the part of that American cartoon film with the deer, where his mother had died.

He lined up his shot… flicked off the safety… readied the trigger… aimed…

 _Thud, Thud, Thud!_

The sudden shaking of the ground and trees behind him threw off his aim, making him fire above the deer, thus causing it to run off in fright.

"Futu-i! Doamne, nenorocitule!" he exclaimed, swinging his gun around to aim at the source of… the… footsteps?

Now standing in front of him was a veritable giant, dressed only in a strange mask and garments that reminded him of the sort he had seen in a magazine that he remembered confiscating from one of his children when they had been teenagers, though, of course, that was not entirely important at the moment, at least, not as important as this man's huge muscles and the very large sword in his hand.

The Giant's eyes were a disturbingly clear and pale blue, and his skin was the color of dented iron. The large man looked down upon the now petrified Gheorge, and grinned a wide, white thing that spoke volumes about his mental state.

With a rumbling chuckle, it slowly jogged past him, each step shaking the ground.

 _Thud, thud, thud, thud…_

Idly, he noted that the gun had fallen out of his hands. At least he did not piss his pants, though, he felt very close to doing so. He would later discover that he had actually had a bit.

Maybe he should just serve fish or a nice goose instead. Yes, that would be nice. Deer was sometimes too gamey anyway. Yes, in fact, maybe he should not come back into the forest again for a bit…

So wrapped up was the frightened man in the mental act of calming down his frayed nerves, that he did not hear or registered the slight ruffling of a tree as two armored figures leapt off the branches, following in the direction of the stomping, giggling behemoth.

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

In one of the courtyards of the castle, a great sparring session was being held.

Rider wore only his light grey pants, unarmored boots, and a sleeveless blue shirt, revealing his muscular arms, which were covered in intricate, jagged blue and red tattoos, the main ones being in the shape of snarling hounds, the heads and upper boddies of which snaked up beneath his shirt, as well as a multitude of large and small scars, which matched the ones on his chest and face. All in all, it helped to tell his story of a hard and fast-lived life.

His opponent, Bazett, wore light workout pants and a tank top, along with bandage wrapped hands covered with fingerless gloves, revealing her own, heavily tattooed hands and arms.

Ever since their first meeting, the two had rapidly developed a fast friendship, especially when they had discovered that they held many of the same interests; namely fighting, drinking beer, fighting, runecraft, fighting, and a mutual distaste of Celenike… and fighting.

So, when Bazett then asked Rider for some lessons in runecraft, he had agreed. Due to his background, he decided to teach her the only way that he knew, which was through rigorous combat.

Bazett sped towards him, Ehwaz runes shining on her gloves as she cocked back her fist, ready and eager to land a crushing blow.

Instead of retreating, Rider instead sped forward as well, leaning into and past the punch, grabbed the woman's outstretched arm, turned on his heel, lifted, and threw Bazett straight over his shoulder, intending to slam her into the ground.

Mostly through instinct, while Rider sent her flying, Bazett managed to twist in his grip and propel herself away with a quickly traced Sowilo and Gander, causing her to fly out of Rider's grip and land on her feet away from him. Not a moment later, she was charging forth, with a small Ansuz-created wave of flame blazing before her, ready to consume Rider entirely.

Rider doused it with a series of Laguz runes, and then it was his turn to rush forward, his own fist cocked back, ready to impact against Bazett's head.

Thinking fast, with runes on her shoes suddenly glowing brightly, along with a Dagaz shining on her forehead, thus making her perception of things speed up, Bazett swerved and dodged downwards and forwards, and, while Rider's fist impacted on the ground, smashing the stone to dust, Bazett was able to land an Ehwaz-powered uppercut straight against the Servant's stomach.

He managed to take the blow with a grin and no appearance of pain. Then, suddenly twisting and spinning on his clenched fist, Cu Chulainn sent a leg sweeping over towards his opponent, which she barely managed to dodge.

On and on the two fought, trading blows and rune-powered attacks back and forth, though, Rider made sure to regulate his strength so as not to accidentally kill Bazett.

Finally, a few hours later, as the sun began to slowly set, they stopped. While Rider's tattooed flesh was unblemished, Bazett's was covered in a good sheen of sweat, as well as a few bruises. Luckily, no bones were broken or sprained.

Rider chuckled as Bazett swiftly gulped down several mouthfuls of water from her bottle. "You're getting better, little girl, very ingenious use of Sowilo and Gandr. Keep up this progress, and, in a few centuries, you might be actually able to keep up with me for a day."

Part of Bazett's response comprised of a very improper gesture. "Screw you! I managed more than a few good hits in on you, ya bastard!"

"Yeah, but that number was in the single digits! Though, it's impressive for a novice."

They bickered back and forth, for a while, as the sun continued to set. Even as they bickered, their friendship only continued to blossom. Not a romance, for Cu Chulainn had learned well that that path ended in nothing but misery, just a great sense of comradeship and mutual respect.

From beneath one of the courtyard's trees, Chiron watched the two with a smile on his face. With Fiore's permission, though she had stated that he had not required it, the Centaur Sage had been watching the two's sparring sessions for a while now, sometimes giving out advice, but mostly being content just to watch.

This Cu Chulainn reminded him so much of his past students, especially Achilles, that it was almost uncanny. How odd and amusing, the way life created such parallels. Personally, Chiron wished that he could have met The Hound of Chulainn's famous teacher, Scáthach, the Witch of the Shadowlands, back when he had still lived, before Heracles' arrow had laid him low. It would have been an interesting experience, to have met a fellow teacher of heroes.

A homunculus maid clearing her throat as she entered the sparring yard then interrupted their conversation, and the Archer's musings. "Master Darnic and Master Vlad have asked that all the servants and their masters assemble in the throne room, please."

Rider waved her off. "Sure, sure. Be there in a minute. Jeez, I was hoping to avoid that sister of yours a bit more. Ah, fuck it."

Bazett toweled some of the sweat from her brow for a moment, and then spoke. "Maybe I could accompany you? You know, strength in numbers?"

"Sure. Do what you want. I'll take all the help I can get against that Harpy!"

As the two then shared a laugh and began walking to the throne room with Chiron, Rider and Bazett remained unaware that Celenike was watching them, as an unhealthy look tunneled its way into her eyes…

* * *

 _Trifas, Night_

The sun had set, and night had now spread its velvety wings upon the city of Trifas. Oddly though, the streets seemed near deserted, despite the fact that many lights were lit from each building. As such, To Kairi, it felt as if he and Saber were the only residents of the town. Out of the corner of his sunglasses, he studied his servant's new appearance.

Her favor had been that he buy her some clothes to wear, she actually hated going around in astral form.

So, after the shopping trip, and a large dinner, as he had promised earlier, Saber was now garbed in a grey t-shirt, a red jacket, knee-length jean shorts, and black boots adorned with a skull design.

Her original choice had been a small tube top and daisy duke shorts that had been little more than a belt, to which Kairi had put his foot down in refusal. While he was not a prude, he also had not wanted to have to deal with the headache and trouble of a burly biker figure being seen by police with a scantily dressed girl who looked barely out of her teens calling him "Master."

Luckily, she had accepted his suggestions about her attire with little fuss. Indeed, she had actually quite taken to her new attire. "Wow. These clothes feel amazing! Thank you master!"

"Don't worry about it. It was a necessary expense."

In the near distance, Millennia Castle loomed ominously from atop it's large hill. Unbeknownst to the walking pair, flying overhead was a strange, rocky thing shaped like an owl, a single eye dominating its entire head, which was currently centered straight onto them.

Saber looked about as she spun around, getting a feeling for her new garb. "It's strange. Here we are, as bold as brass, walking through the heart of the enemy's territory, and yet nobody has attacked us yet."

"Rest assured, this town is definitely under the control of the Yggdmillennia."

"Which means what, exactly?"

Suddenly, the pair stopped walking. Standing in front of them was a large group of Yggdmillennia homunculi, each armed with, and armored in, high-quality-looking weapons and light armor. Along side these blank faced warriors were large golems made of steel and stone, each which looked like they could crush Kairi's skull with little to no effort.

As Kairi un-holstered his sawed-off shotgun, Saber laughed and suddenly began slapping him on the back, as if it were all a funny joke. "Hahahaha! Oh, I get it now! I thought that it was just going to be me, but you were being a decoy as well! You might just be insane! I like it!"

Atop the rooftop, homunculi snipers took up positions with bows and arrows.

Despite the fact that they were being surrounded, Kairi remained oddly unperturbed about their situation, at least on the surface, while, internally, he was understandably a bit wary about their situation. "You take care of the golems. I'll focus on getting rid of the homunculi."

"Got it!"

"Right. Show me the extent of your powers, Saber!" As he exclaimed this, Kairi rushed forward towards their attackers, shotgun at the ready.

* * *

As his master ran off, Saber turned and looked at the approaching golems with boredom, not even moving as one slammed down its massive club upon his head. At least this should be fun.

Suddenly, it stopped. Saber had managed to black it with one armored hand. As golem and Servant struggled against each other, Saber smirked. "You got it, Master!"

In the next instant, he sent the golem crashing into the building on his right with a large explosion of stone and debris.

As another rushed towards him, the Servant of the Sword dodged it's club by dashing backwards in a flash of red light, causing his armor to appear from the waist down, and then sped forwards and ran up and off of the lumbering behemoth, twisted in the air, and then impacted against one of the myriad of buildings lining the street. Then, with a smirk, Mordred pushed off, the force comparable to a cruise missile as he shot straight through the golem, demolishing it, but with him being no worse for wear.

No sooner had he landed on his feet than another golem was already lumbering towards him. With another flash of red, Saber was now fully incased in his armor from the neck down, leaving only his face bare. Almost nonchalantly, he ducked under the first blow, and then, in a blur of red and steel, sliced off the golem's arm with a newly materialized Clarent.

Taking his stolen, tarnished sword in both hands, Mordred sped and slashed across the air, demolishing the golems in a way that seemed a mixture between brute force and above average swordsmanship.

As more of the stony brutes came rumbling towards him, the Knight of Betrayal looked up and smirked as his horned helmet fully envelopes his head in a rattle of shifting metal. Then, with blade at the ready, he dashed forwards.

This was getting to be almost fun!

* * *

It was through a combination of instinct, speed, and pure dumb luck that Kairi had not been sliced to ribbons yet by the homunculi, and thus had to be continuously moving backwards, without firing off a shot as of yet. To be fair, it was not like he had any experience fighting against people who used freaking halberds before!

With adrenaline pumping speed through his legs, Kairi turned and ran, scrambling and sliding across and behind a dumpster bin to avoid the three halberd-wielding homunculi who were hot on his heels.

As they attempted to flank him, Kairi spun on his heel, aimed, and let loose his gun's payload; bullets crafted from the finger bones of dead magi. Before they knew what had hit them, two of the homunculi were already dead, with their blood staining the wall behind them as they collapsed to the ground. The third one, though his neck was already leaking blood, somehow managed to remain upright. As he did, he gasped out, "Is… this… Gandr?"

It was, again, more though luck than anything the Kairi managed to notice, out of the corner of his eye, the arrows arcing towards him, and was barely able to scurry behind the dumpster bin for cover. As the sniping homunculi continued to rain down arrows upon him, he reached into his jacket, and pulled out a curious object. It was what looked like a beating heart with a grenade pin mechanism attached to it.

Flicking off the pin, Kairi threw it up towards the archers. Although they managed to quickly perforate the strange grenade with their arrows, they had unknowingly fallen right into the Necromancer's trap. As the grenade exploded, a dark purple mist shot out of the heart's tubes, and settled upon the archers. A second later, the one caught in the blast radius began to choke and spit up blood as the poison swiftly entered their bodies, killing them though immediate multiple organ failure, while their faces contorted into expressions of agony as they died.

Meanwhile, Saber was swiftly finishing up the remainder of the golems. As another fell to her impaling blade, one with a large crossbow attached to its right arm took aim from the roof.

Thank to her instinct skill, and without looking, Saber sent her sword spinning over her shoulder and through the air like a boomerang towards the archer, smashing it into pieces.

Despite now not having her weapon on hand, Saber then finished off the last attacking golem with a swift and powerful punch to its center, reducing it to stony fragments and debris.

With that, the battle had ended.

As she nonchalantly caught her falling sword without looking, Kairi approached his servant, holstering his weapon as he did so. "Looks like we're done here," he said.

"I'm surprised by your skill, master," Saber said, as her helmet collapsed into her armor.

"Heh. I've been in more than a fair share of scraps." He then looked around at the now quiet battlefield. "Odd. Why did they go all out like that?"

"All out? This was nothing. They didn't even send one of their servants. Cowards."

"Well, lets retreat for tonight." As he spoke, the Necromancer bent down to retrieve one of the large purple gems that had acted as the golem's magical core. "At least it wasn't a complete waste though."

As he pocketed the gem, Saber lightly slapped him on the back, like they were old chums celebrating the victory of their favorite sports team. "Well, with that out of the way… Tell me, what did you think of my skills as a warrior?"

Kairi smiled as he looked at her. "I have to admit, you're quite good. Truly, I've ended up with a very magnificent servant here."

"Heh. Damn right you did. I am the only knight that far surpasses my father, after all."

"Yeah, though, if I were to critique you…"

"Critique? What for? I was flawless!"

"Perhaps, but that last part, with you throwing your sword? That may have been a bit much."

"A bit much? You dumb idiot, as long as you win in the end, then who cares how you do it?"

"Hmm. I think I can agree with that."

At that, the two began to walk away, leaving behind the demolished golems, and the dead homunculi.

Once again, the night settled was covered with a blanket of quiet and rest, and the hours continued to pass without fail. All the while, the flying, one-eyed thing continued hovering and watching...

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

Thanks to the flying familiar golem, the entirety of the Black faction within the castle had bore witness to the battle, and, more importantly, to the prowess and abilities of Saber and her master.

Darnic was the first to speak. "Hmmm. Strong indeed."

"Even putting aside the fact that it was done by a Saber," Chiron said, praise clear in his tone, "That was rather exceptional."

Lancer leaned upon one of the arms of his throne, stroking his chin in thought. He then looked down towards Jubei, who had silently watched the proceedings with a narrowed eye. "Can you win?" The Prince of Wallachia asked him.

The One-Eyed Swordsman looked at the Servant of the Spear, and then gave a small nod of his head. "Yes. I do not believe that there will be much contest between us."

Coming from anyone else, this would have sounded like a boast, but, from the humble lips of Yagyu Jubei, it was nothing more than a fact.

"Good."

Meanwhile, Caster had watched the entire ordeal with a bit of sadness. It had been hard, watching the homunculi die, but, at the very least, he would make sure that their bodies were retrieved and buried with some dignity.

Oh well, this just meant that the next batches would have to be made more resilient. Maybe with a sample of the poison that Necromancer had used, retrieved from the corpses, The Golden Man could ensure that this time, the next generation of homunculi that emerged from the tanks would not have to die in such a dreadful manner.

A smile then graced his bearded lips as he began to work out the various variables in his head. Another challenge! How very exciting! He couldn't wait to get to work!

* * *

Unbeknownst to either faction, a third party had borne witness to the skirmish in Trifas.

All of them had gathered around one of their Archer's numerous Phantasms, a large arcane-looking device which had broadcasted the battle to them, much like a television set. "Wow! Mr. Lion was really cool!" Flat exclaimed, wonder shining in his eyes. "Plus, that part where the Saber threw her sword! So cool!"

"I find her demeanor to be both amusing, and a bore. How quaint. But, at the very least, she should make for a decent distraction from the real battles to come," the Archer said, as the image faded, and he dismissed the phantasm, all the while sipping from a wine glass.

"Hahahahaha! Such spirit should not be so looked down upon, goldie!" Rider exclaimed. "That wild knight would make a mighty fine addition to our forces!"

El-Melloi II rubbed his eyes and sighed. "I don't think that she seems the type to accept, your Majesty."

"Perhaps, but unless I ask, then we won't know, will we?"

The priest, another member of this group, said nothing, and simply ruminated, while his servant remained silently by his side.

The Archer's two masters, a pair of sisters, had watched the battle in rapt attention. "Is this what the Holy Grail War is truly like? Amazing." The Elder one said aloud, fingering one of her pigtails as she spoke.

Her younger sibling said nothing, and simply grabbed her sister's hand.

The knightly-looking man fingered his cane. "We must do our best to keep the innocent out of this War. Those two were far too reckless."

"Maybe," El-Melloi II said. "But, as of yet, it's still too risky to make a move. What about Caster? What's his take on all of this?"

In lieu of an answer, a ringing sound could suddenly be heard, echoing throughout the room. With a blank face, the knightly-looking man with the cane simply reached into his coat pocket, and withdrew a flip phone. After pressing the answer button, instead of holding it close to his ear, he instead held as far away as possible. A moment later, a loud, boisterous voice emanated from the device, making everyone present cringe, save for Rider, who just laughed again. "Hey Bro! How ya doin?!"

El-Melloi II sighed. Great. Gingerly, he took the phone from Caster's master. "Caster. I take it you were also watching?"

"Oh, hey Mr. Melloi!"

"It's El-Melloi II!"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, wow! What a show. Just fantastic. Five Stars! Top notch blockbuster stuff!"

"Indeed. Have you learned anything of note, or are you just calling to bother us?"

"No need to be so harsh, Mr. London Big Ben Super Star bro! Yeah, I've learned few things. Such as that Saber's identity, for one."

Waver ignored the ridiculous nickname that Caster had learned from Flat. "Really?"

"Really, really, bro! Though, were I you, I would ask our Saber about it first. I think that he'll know who she is, _very_ well, heh heh heh."

Interesting. "Anything else, Caster?"

"Maybe, but only if I get to whisper it in the ear of that cute Japanese girlfriend of yours while she sits with me naked in a sweaty bed covered in rumpled sheets! Hey, is it true that her type of woman is the kind that will do wild stuff in the bed if ya ask?"

El-Melloi felt a vein begin to pulsate violently on his forehead. "I am going to hang up now, Caster," he said through gritted teeth.

"Woah, woah, woah! No need to get so bent up about it, bro. Besides, my sources have spun me a pretty interesting picture about the Red faction, especially some of its Masters! Want me to tell you about it? I will, but only if you put my Rider bro on the phone next, instead of hanging up on me like a chump! I can't get enough of that guy! I mean, as a captain in his army, I should be able to chat with him a bit too, right? Also, I would like a woman! A hot one, with a great personality, as well as some good booze and food! A bro has needs, ya know?"

El-Melloi II sighed, again. As infuriating as the Caster of Blue was, the lord could not deny how invaluable the author's absurd information-gathering abilities were. "Very well. You can talk to Rider in a bit. As for the woman, food, and alcohol... we will see. Now, what have you discovered?"

"Well, let me tell ya..."

* * *

 _Biserica din Deal_

Shirou kneeled at the altar, hands clasped in prayer. He was praying for many things, among which included success in his future endeavors, clarity of mind, as well as a sign that he was on the right path. As always, though, the Lord deigned not to answer in words. Instead, Shirou revisited the memories of his past... _A burning city, people crying out in pain for salvation..._

As he finished his silent prayer, he opened his eyes and smiled, since he felt that he was no longer alone.

In a flash of golden sparks, the Servant of the Bow came into being behind the Master of Red. As he did, the twin scents of burning wood and ozone filled the air. Tall and proud, with skin and hair the color of freshly fallen snow, though the hair also had bright streaks of red within it, the Servant was clad in a flowing achkan of gold, red, and black. Golden, spiked armor, which seemed to hold the radiance of the sun, covered him from head to toe on top of, and even beneath, the achkan, almost as if it were growing from his skin. A large, ornate earing hung from his left ear. In the center of his forehead was a bright read tilaka, which contrasted greatly again his skin like a dash of blood.

At his side were two quivers full of arrows, and a small dagger, whilst in his hand he held a great bow of unparalleled beauty and strength that simply radiated power. Floating by his shoulders were two large, golden shapes, like two eyes. Finishing the effect was his cape, like a living flame the color of blood.

Every iota of this being radiated pure power, as if it were a simple, undeniable truth. Indeed, he seemed like a miniature sun unto himself, filling the darkened church with bright light.

Two eyes, one as red as his cape, and the streaks in his hair, , with black sclera, and the other as blue as the sky with white sclera, and both with vertical pupils, like two great bolts of lightning, stared at Shirou, who seemed unfazed by the Archer's overwhelming presence. Underneath those eyes was eyeliner of the same colors.

"Hello Archer. Is there something that I can help you with?"

The Archer's voice was seemed as deep and ponderous as both an ocean and an ancient forest. "I have been informed by my master that you are in charge of support, so I thought it best to see you for myself."

"Yes, that is correct. Do you have any concerns with that arrangement, Archer?"

"No."

"Good. Be ready to move out. Assassin has informed me that the Garden is nearly complete."

"Of course," The Son of the Sun god replied.

"Oh, and Karna?"

"Yes?"

The smile never left Shirou's face. "When the Ruler class servant appears, you are to track her down and eliminate her."

Karna did not even hesitate in his reply. "Understood."

* * *

 _France, two nights ago_

The sleeping girl had been asleep for no longer than normal. At least, in the waking world, save for the fact that she appeared to not be having a pleasant slumber.

But, within the girl's mind? It was a horror of horrors.

It was a land that seemed as if it had been burning for a thousand years. Nothing alive seemed to be left, only a long, endless line of stakes and crosses stretching across the endless horizon, each with a burning, screaming corpse attached to it. Every so often, a strange vision would flash; that of figures, each noble and powerful in bearing, lying dead upon the ground in a verity of ways, from impalement, to decapitation.

In the red sky, flashes of eyes and tendrils could be seen… and then not seen, and then not seen again.

In the far off distance, past the endless line of burning crosses and stakes, the vague form and outline of a writhing draconic being could be partly seen, and it seemed larger than a mountain.

There was also a soft voice, which could not be well heard, due to the screaming corpses, save for one thing, which the voice kept repeating over and over again. " _The starting penalty is five_."

The girl, or, at least, one who resembled her, save that she was dressed in a simple peasant garb, with her long blonde hair done in a simple braid down her back, looked around at the terrible scene. This was a holy maiden, still proud and dignified in her bearing, who had once led men into battle in the name of God.

 **Horrifying, is it not?**

The strange voice seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere, making the holy maiden look about in confusion.

"Who is there? What is the place? Where is Laeticia?"

 **So many questions for one so young, and so far out of her depth… how intriguing you already are, "holy" maiden. Worry not, for your inquiries shall be answered. First, however, to understand who we are, we must tell you a story.**

 **In a time long past, there was once a nameless villager. One day, he was chosen by his elder to be me, to represent all that was wrong and sinful in this world. As such, he was then tortured, endlessly, for four days, until he stopped screaming, and began to be proud of his torment, and proud of his "duty," his service to mankind. Then, he died.**

 **His first death, and subsequent recording upon the Throne of Heroes, was the key to my entering this reality. But, I was weakened from my entering. Luckily, I did not enter alone. My siblings came with me. Apart, we were weakened. So, we conjoined. But, we had to wait. We had to be patient, until this moment, where we found you.**

"You still have not answered my other questions."

 **Of course. Our apologies, "holy" maiden, but you should not worry, as the girl is safe, just elsewhere. As for where this is, why, this is the future, one that will come to pass, if you make the wrong choice, here and now.**

"What do you want with me?"

 **For your whole life, we watched you, "holy" maiden. You are alone, girl. You stood alone, you still stand alone, and you see all that lies before you, and we can tell you are positively sickened. Above all else, you died alone, hated, and in agony… and yet, you still harbor a desire to save all that came before you, and all that would come after you, and even the ones who called for your death, and laughed and cheered as you burned. We found it… intriguing, and pitying. You are alone, but we can make you whole. We want you to be powerful, and great beyond measure.**

"I am not alone, foul thing. God is ever with me."

 **You speak of God, when one speaks to you, and when the one you claim spoke to you left this creation eons ago? Amusing. Perhaps, but we were not speaking to you, holy maiden… at least, not just you alone.**

"What?"

 **If you will not accept our blessings and our love… than perhaps your host will. Is that not so, Laeticia? Do you not desire to save this world, to keep this future from occurring?**

The holy maiden turned around in a panic to behold her would-be host, who was on her knees, with tears streaming down her face. "We have to save them, Ruler. Yes… we can save them…."

The holy maiden ran to shield the human girl with her own body, her arms stretched outwards, like her lord upon the cross.

"No! Leave her alone, foul thing. She is innocent!"

 **Innocent? Such a strange, strange word for you to speak aloud, "holy maiden." Strange, and… hypocritical, coming from one who led soldiers to their death, and has the blood of countless others on her "pure" hands, all because you claimed that "God" spoke to you. Look upon those who you condemned, "holy" maiden, in your crusade of hypocrisy and zealotry. Look upon them, and know your sins.**

Decaying corpses dressed in antiquated French and English armor rose out of the ground around her, threatening to drown her in a tide of blood and rot; all the while, they repeatedly chanted "Holy Maiden. Holy Maiden. Save us. We will die for you. You killed us. Why did you attack us? Why? Why? WHY?! WHERE IS GOD?"

Around her the screams increased, and tortured, burning corpses crawled and peeled themselves off their crosses and stakes and made their way towards the holy maiden, reaching out her charred, claw-like hands towards her. Overhead, the outlines of tentacles, and large eyes could be seen flashing intermittently in the sky. The unheard voice began repeating its unheard mantra in an increasingly erratic tempo.

The holy maiden began to shake, with her hands clutching her head, as if she were in pain, "Why, why are you doing this? What are you?"

 **Our reasons are our own, "holy" maiden; save for the fact that you are a great part of them, should you choose to be. As for what we are? Some have called us a deity, others a Beast, and others still a Foreign Outer God. We are all of those things, and yet, so much more, and so much less.**

 **Accept our offer, take our essence into your being, and we will grant you power and vengeance over all who stood, and will stand before you. You will be great, beyond all reckoning.**

"If I accept this… offer, will you swear to leave Laeticia out of this? That you will let her go?"

 **Of course, for, as we have said, it is your choice in the end, and we would not wish to kill her or keep her against her will. We only wish to share with you our love, just as we wish to share our love with all of humanity.**

A draconic limb that seemed equally, and yet also unequally, comprised of scales, eyes, tendrils, tentacles, fire, shadow, and talons appeared before the holy maiden and parted the tide of corpses, like a strange parting of the Red Sea, it's "hand" outstretched, as if in welcome.

 **Take our hand, holy maiden, and together, we can avert this future that you see before us. Together, we will save everyone. We promise to never abandon you, to fill you up with our love. You will never be alone, or afraid again. You will be our queen and goddess. You will never have to be a martyr, for a God that never cared about you. We care about you, we will hold you close, and always protect you. Take our hand, look upon our true form, and all will be well.**

With only a minute amount of sorrowful hesitation, the holy maiden took the hand.

For a split second, the draconic being could be seen in its entire indescribable, horrific splendor, and despite her self, the holy maiden whispered a single word. "Magnificent."

The soft voice could then be heard in full, and what it spoke was terrifying to the ears of Laeticia, who tried in vain to stop the holy maiden.

The starting penalty is five. Life penalty, body penalty, freedom penalty, fame penalty, fortune penalty. Give the penalty that extends so much punishment, mud, darkness, and malice. "Elimination of human rights by castration, exile, execution" "Torture and sadism upon the body through digestion" "Denial by consensus of the colony that eliminates all honor"

die

"Scorn from the judgment and selfishness that takes away men's fortunes." death penalty penal servitude imprisonment custody fine penalty, crime from a grudge, crime from self-interest, unconscious crime, self-conscious crime, civil war, inducement, false statement, theft, robbery, kidnap, suicide, rape, arson, bombing, violation, negligent homicide, mass violence, death at work, overconfident accident,

die

misdiagnosis, concealment, violation for benefit, violation for self-protection, violation for love, violation for respect, selfish █████. Stealing fraudulent fraud concealment murder theft crime crime personal grudge attack attack attack attack dirty dirty dirty you are dirty atone atone atone atone every violence every crime every victim atone for everything "This world is ruled by something not human" Know the conscience to reform crimes.

die

die

die

Know the penalty to reform crimes. People's kindness is here. There is so much it cannot be noticed. Know the violence to hide crimes. Know the power to hide crimes. People's malignance is here. It is so rare that it is noticed. A hundred kindnesses and one malignance. Malignance shines bright to keep the balance and exists as a great "evil" to compete with the masses of kindness. The starting penalty is five

die

die

die

die

die

die

██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self ██for self inducement, false statement, theft, robbery, kidnap, suicide, rape, arson, infringement, dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty you are dirty atone atone atone atone atone atone every violence every crime every victim atone atone atone with death!

In the waking world, Laeticia awoke, with a sob and a scream of "No!" before then crying into her hands, her mind abuzz with the horror and blasphemy that she had unknowingly helped to create.

Meanwhile, at the border of France, a great flame of darkness and the space between stars erupted, and from it stepped a figure more terrifyingly beautiful than any dragon.

Her skin was the color of the palest moonlight, while her hair; once a warm blonde was now whiter than bone. Armor that once shined brighter than the holiest of silver was now dark, as if blackened by dragonfire and shadow. Her pauldrons were wrought in the shape of alien dragonheads, with the number of eyes ever changing, and tendrils hanging from the lower jaws. In the center of her breastplate was a large, unblinking eye made from pulsing gems, while her tabard and cloak bore the same emblem as that of her unfurled flag, which was attached to a spear that she gripped tightly in her left hand. The image on the banner was that of a roaring white dragon on black surrounded by unblinking eyes. The flag billowed lightly, though there was currently no breeze. Her gauntlets and armored boots were like talons and draconic feet.

Belted at her side was a single item; a sword, once wielded by a saint, but now, it was forever marred and tainted. Its hilt was forged in the shape of thorny tentacles and eyes, the handle black ebony, while the pommel was an evil looking gem carved in the shape of a flame.

Her hair was unbound and wild, trailing down to the small of her back, as well as floating in the same, nonexistent breeze as her banner. Above her head floated a crown forged from strange, ever-shifting alien geometries. To look upon it for too long would be to invite madness and terry into the mind.

No longer was this figure just a holy maiden, or a Ruler-class Servant. Now, she was a foreign thing, a witch of dragons, the long repressed, alter ego of the original holy maiden. Most terrifying was her shadow, for it was the outline of a dragon-like being covered tentacles, thorns, flames, and wings and eyes.

She slowly opened her own eyes, now the color of terrifying gold, while a third opened upon her forehead. With these three orbs, she looked upon her new form with wonder, where, in another life, she would have once looked upon it with horror.

Then, the voice spoke once again, emanating from everywhere and nowhere. **Together, we will save this world, and envelope all who live upon it in our endless love.**

 **Now arise, Jeanne d'Arc, arise our queen, our goddess, arise, and save this world.**

That which had once been the Maid of Orleans continued to examine her new form, and then spoke, in a voice that held a slight echo.

"Magnificent…"

Upon uttering that sentence, she then turned her head, and began to walk, towards the direction of Romania.

* * *

 _Preview of the next chapter_

 _Outskirts of the forest around Trifas_

Thud… thud… thud.

With a mad grin and a determined look in his eye, Spartacus continued on his way towards the Millennia Castle.

Thud… thud… thud.

Meanwhile, his two pursuers, a young man with green hair, and a beauty with long platinum-blonde hair, stood in the trees, watching the Servant of Madness as he continued on his way, laughing as he did so.

"Oppressors! Hahahaha! I am coming for you. Fear my righteous wrath as I topple you form your lofty towers of evil and oppression. Hahahahaha!"

Thud… thud… thud.

 **A/N: I will be honest, I am sorry for how long this chapter took, as e\well as the fact that it's not as long as my previous one. Also, the World of Warcraft Azshara short video heavily inspired Ruler's scene.**

 **A/NN: As you may no doubt be aware by now, there will be no Sieg in this story. It's not that he is a bad character; it's just that in this story of mine, he has no place. Plus, as you can tell, right now Ruler is not really going to be in the mood for going all "what are these strange feelings beating in my exaggerated anime bust as I blush and sit naked in a bathtub" towards a being who is technically no more than a few days old at most, which, if you think about it, makes it more than a bit creepy.**

 **Please, read and review.**

 **A/NNN Made some corrections and and fixed some typos. Enjoy, read, and review.**

 **A/NNNN Last correction to this chapter. Changed one word in the description of a character.**


	3. Chapter 3

Blood, Obsidian, Ocean Chapter 3

 _Biserica din Deal_

Within one of the rooms of the base, Shirou met with his fellow Red Masters. What was odd about the room was that it had no windows, and was perpetually filled with a thick, sweet-scented incense. Shirou paid it no mind. Instead, he poured some fragrant tea, mostly undetectable due to the incense, for the other masters, who were quiet, as if deep in contemplation.

He looked about the room as he did so, his smile never leaving his face. Such terrifyingly esteemed and infamous company that was in presence here; Rottweil Berzinsky, the Silver Lizard; Feend vor Sembren, one of the premier instructors of the Clock Tower, as well as a fellow member of the Church; The infamous Pentel Brothers, and Jean Rum, The Gale Wheel herself. In essence, this was a room of people you could only be described as powerful, devastating monsters of the battlefield… and here he was, pouring them all cups of tea with a smile on his face. Strange, the directions that life and chance could take a person.

As he poured the tea, Shirou spoke. "I have some very good news for you, my friends. The Garden is just about complete. Our plans will be moving into their next phase soon, and the Black Faction will be caught quite off guard."

The magi said nothing. Indeed, they barely even moved, or acknowledged his presence.

"The lack of a Ruler is odd, though, that just means that there will not have to be any… unnecessary bloodshed involved, which gladdens my heart immensely."

Silence, and the scent of incense. Shirou kept smiling.

"Unfortunately, I am afraid that poor Spartacus has gone on a rampage towards the black faction. The curse of such a high ranked Mad Enhancement, it would seem. However, Rider and Lancer are already shadowing him in case things get too out of hand."

He finished pouring and preparing the tea. "So, rest assured, you were all quite wise in deciding to leave everything to me. Everything shall work out, I promise you, and the rewards will be great indeed. Enjoy your beverages, my friends. It's a very special brand, and I would feel most remiss if you did not at least sample it."

The priest then closed the door behind him and left, as the odors of cooling tea and heady incense continued to fill the air.

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

Caster looked over the floating homunculi, each like a sleeping fetus within their tanks, and clad as much as a fetus, that is, in nothing.

Lightly patting the tank in front of him, Caster walked over towards the autopsy tables that had been set up away from the tanks. The dead homunculi archers from the night before were laid across them, already cut open. What he had already discovered was quite fascinating.

Despite his many travels and experiences in life, Caster had sadly never had much contact with the moonlit world, aside from his own, very discreet studies. Unfortunately, despite the rise of learning and Art that the Renaissance had brought to the known world, it was still Italy, the center of the Catholic Church, in the middle Ages. It had been dangerous enough loving men as well as women, but, if he had been found to be a magus? People were still fond of burning heretics and witches and sodomites in that age, after all. So, aside from some discrete contact with the Magus Association, he had been forced to put that aspect of himself away, except for certain circumstances.

Now, though, he was getting the chance to explore mage craft to the fullest! So, when he was not in the laboratory, he would busy himself with perusing the Millennia castle's Library, full of knowledge about the moonlit world. Plus, right now as he carefully extracted residue from the homunculi's ravaged organs, he could examine actual hydra venom, as well as the strange ammunition that Saber of Red's master had used!

Still, it had been gained only through tragedy. He remembered each of these homunculi, remembered the moment he had named each of them. Francesco, Vanozza, Rodrigo, Charlotte, Lucretia, and Stefano. The best he could do was insure that they had not died for nothing.

Glancing up from his examination of Charlotte's poison-ravaged organs, he looked towards his young Master, who was busy tinkering with one of his golems. "Hey, Roche, would you mind helping me over here, per favore?"

"Huh? Oh… yeah… sure, in a minute, Caster."

The reluctance in his tone could have been heard by a deaf person. With a sigh, Caster paused and walked over towards his summoner.

"Why don't you want to help me, Roche?"

"Because those things are not my area of expertise."

"What, homunculi? Why not? There is not that much difference between their making. Besides, by helping me, we can make sure that more don't have to die so easily." Also, why did he refer to these poor dears as "things?

"So, what? Who cares if more homunculi die? Flesh is stupid, just like those dead ones were!"

What?

Having been raised by emotionless golems for all of his life, Roche was unfortunately unable to detect that, by the tells on Caster's still-smiling face, such as the tilt of his head and the tightening of his mouth and the corners of his eyes, this comment had been the wrong thing to say. So of course, Roche, who had been feeling annoyed by his Servant's attempts to actually act _human_ around him, continued. "That's part of why homunculi are useless! They were just flesh and blood, after all. Stone is so much better, at least you can repair EEP!"

Despite his strength stat being the lowest possible for a servant, an "E," Caster was still much stronger than a normal human, and thus could easily lift up Roche by the back of his shirt, even with his unarmored hand. With a tight smile still on his face, he carried the struggling boy, back over towards the homunculi station. Meanwhile, Caster's bird trilled angrily at the boy.

"Take a look," Da Vinci said to his master, in a tone that brooked no arguments.

Roche did, but did not understand. All he saw was dead, stupid flesh.

Before he could voice this, Caster than spoke again. "These were living beings. Their hearts beat, like yours, and their brains were fueled by oxygen, like yours. They blinked, walked, and talked, learned and remembered, and they died. But they lived. They could feel, and hurt, and _experience_ , like you! They lived, like you do now!"

Roche had never really heard Caster raise his voice in anger like this, and so kept quiet.

"Golems are not like that at all, do you understand, you stupid, stupid boy? They cannot change, except at the hands of their makers. They never remember, they can't learn, or feel. They just exist. But you, you are more! You are a human being, not a golem!"

Caster than made Roche face him, still holding on to the back of his shirt. "So, don't you dare… don't you _dare_ look down upon flesh and blood, when you are comprised of that as well. Don't you dare look down upon these homunculi, or their sacrifices! You are not a golem, Roche Frain. You are a human being of flesh and blood, like them!"

Caster then released Roche, and stepped back, spreading his arms out wide, as if he could encompass all of the laboratory. "If you were not flesh and blood, you would never have been able to accomplish any of this! Could a golem, an unfeeling thing of angles and stone and wood and marble have ever made any of this on its own?"

Roche said nothing, either too afraid of making his Servant angry at him again, or too enthralled in his words.

Caster continued. "This, this is one of the many things that can only prove that humanity is indeed beautiful, because it all came from the minds of humans! Your mind, Roche! Your beautiful, confused, and brilliant mind!"

Caster then lowered his harms, and walked over to Rocher, and held out his armored hand for the boy to grab hold of and get up. "So please, do not look down upon and disparage flesh and blood and emotion, Master, for to do so, is to only disparage yourself, and I believe you are so much better than that, my friend. You are human, not a golem. Be proud of that, of your weak flesh and blood, be proud of who you are. I will admit that golems can beautiful, like art… but, unlike humans, art and golems cannot grow or change. Only humans can, and that… that is what makes them beautiful."

Confused, and more than a little awed, Roche let himself be helped up byt the Genius of Vinci. Be proud of being human?

Could such a thing be possible? The gears in Roche's distorted mind began to turn, thinking over what his servant had told him as they began to work on the homunculi corpses.

Could flesh and blood be… better?

He then thought on what Caster had just said. Was that part of the beauty that he had pursued throughout his first life? The beauty of growth and change?

* * *

Bazett staggered into her room, sweat covering her body and a wide smile on her face. Another absolutely fun spar with Rider. He had even said that it seemed like she was getting better! Coming from him, she held it as the highest of compliments, despite her bluster.

Ever since she had been a little girl, Bazett had been so entranced by the stories of the Ulster Cycle. So many times had she let her imagination take to ancient Ireland, training under Scáthach; fighting alongside the mighty Knights of the Red Branch. But, out of all those stories of power and battle and courage and curses, her favorite stories from the cycle had been the ones about Cu Chulainn, the Child of Light.

As she removed her shirt, pants, and underwear in preparation for her shower, she briefly looked over her shoulder to examine her naked back in the mirror and was met with a sight that had been with her for many years; that of her back, littered with scars and blemishes.

Some of it she had covered in Celtic tattoos and healing runes, while the rest were too large to cover, and thus were left uncovered for those she allowed to see her naked back, which was a very small number.

Growing up with Celenike Icecolle Fraga Yggdmillennia as an older sister had never been… easy. The woman's cruelty knew no bounds, even as a child. At times, Bazett still had nightmares about some of their "playtimes." That bitch had always been fond of burning curses and matches and lighters. Some of the wounds still hurt sometimes. Of course, their parents would not do anything, since Celenike was the heir.

Despite all that, as she stepped into her shower, and let the warm water wash and splash all over her, Bazett remembered how, even as a young girl, she had refused to be a victim, to just give in and let despair consume her, to let her sister win. She had resolved, after every "session" with her sister, to get stronger, and better, which was part of why she had always sought solace in the legends of Setanta, the Hound of Chulainn, as well as training like she were under the tutelage of the Witch of Dun Scaith herself. Cu Chualinn had never retreated, he had never been afraid, and had been so mighty, so strong, especially after the scores of curses that had fallen upon his head, that even after he had died, tied upright to a rock, Medb's entire army had been too afraid of the Child of Light to even dare approach him for three days.

He was everything she had ever wanted to be (except his gender, she was a woman, and proud of it, damn it!); strong, brave, relentless, and, at heart, a good person (even when one considered the killing of his best friend and son). Her worship and admiration of his example, she liked to think, had helped lead up to that one day, where she had been able to successfully defend herself against her sister by breaking Celenike's arm, in three places.

After that, her bitch of a sister had, for the most part, left her alone, leaving Bazett free to finally live her own life, a good portion of which she had spent travelling and fighting and drinking and living on a pilgrimage through her ancestral Ireland to the locations where the Ulster Cycle had occurred, and even to her maternal ancestors' home of Siberia.

Now, though, despite the fact that she and Celenike were forced to be under the same roof for the duration of this war, Bazett could not have been happier. Her childhood hero was here, summoned in the flesh! He was everything she had imagined, and more! Now, she was resolved to help him in any way that she could, especially with the relic from her Clan, should he want it, since, unlike her monster of a sister, only Bazett had inherited the ability to use it…

Yes indeed, Bazett Fraga Icecolle Yggdmillennia felt happy. Her dreams had already come true!

She only wished that Darnic had allowed her to be Rider's master…

* * *

With nothing really to do, since Uncle Gordes was fiddling in his workshop, Fiore and Caster were busy with their respective servants, and wanting to stay as far away from Darnic and Celenike as possible, Caules went in search of Berserker.

To his lessening surprise, he found the Bull of Minos still outside, silently walking about, and enjoying the breeze, fresh air, and open spaces.

"Do you think you could tell me a bit more about yourself, Asterios?"

The giant looked down on him with a raised eyebrow and a tilt of his head.

Caules chuckled nervously. "Well, you see, it's just that you're so different from all the legends that were told about you. They say that when you were born, your Father (?) King Minos, having no idea what to do with you, commissioned the famed architect Daedalus to construct a labyrinth an unsolvable labyrinth in which to contain you, filled with traps and monsters. Within those walls, your existence was likened to that of a mindless, man-eating monster who feasted on the yearly sacrifice of seven boys and girls that Athens was forced to pay unto Crete, as well as those who ventured in to try and kill you. But, that was not really true, was it?"

With sorrow in his eyes, the Servant of Madness slowly shook his head, as he sat down upon the ground with a loud and somewhat earth-shaking, thump.

"You never wanted to hurt anyone at all. I saw your memories, even Theseus could tell that you were not really a monster. At worst, you were forced to act like one, because that was the only way people had ever treated you," Caules reasoned, as he sat down in front of the giant.

Another nod.

"Yet, despite all of that, you still understood that what you were doing… was wrong. Is that why you didn't escape when you had the chance, despite that being all you ever wanted?

The giant slowly nodded, and then spoke, very slowly, like a child uncertain of their words. "Did… not… deserve…"

Once again, Caules was struck by how introspective the being in front of him actually was. To have known on an instinctual level that what he was doing was wrong, without any sort of education and having been treated and regarded as a mindless brute? How remarkable, and yet, how sad.

For a moment, nothing more was said, and silence filled the air between them. Then, Caules spoke up again. "What is your wish, Asterios?"

The giant, even when sitting, still had to look down upon his summoner. He slowly blinked, and then spoke one word. "Free…dom."

"Freedom?"

In lieu of more words, Asterios simply nodded his massive, maned head.

Caules though for a moment, and then understood. "You want to be free… that's all you ever wanted, aside from wanting to die for what you were forced to do to survive. All you ever wanted was just to be left alone. Is that right?"

Another nod, and then the Bull of Minos spoke again. "Your… wish?"

"You want to know what my wish is?"

Asterios nodded.

"Well, actually, I haven't really made up my mind about that just yet."

The servant raised an eyebrow, almost as if in judgment, and then seemed to loom over Caules.

His arms flailing in the Servant's large shadow, the spectacled boy began to babble a bit. "B-but it's not like I don't have one! I mean, since I am a magus after all, so I do hold within me aspirations of reaching the swirl of the Root. But, the thing is… you know my older sister, the one in the wheel chair?"

Nod. "Well, let's say that if she were to die before this War was over, then I might just try to bring her back to life, you know? For me, my big sister is far more important than the Root that I'll reach in a hundred years, y'know?"

The next thing he knew, Berserker's massive hand was hovering over his head, and coming down. Caules' mind began to panic as the hand descended to… lightly pat him on the head?

Though his head was almost totally enveloped by Asterios' large hand, The Servant of Madness only lightly pat him on the head and ruffled his hair a bit, like one did to a small child.

When the Servant lifted his hand, and after his rattled nerves had calmed down, Caules saw that, though he was not smiling, since he probably had never learned how, there was a very soft and understanding look in his Servant's red and black eyes. "You… kind boy." Asterios rumbled.

"Thank you, Asterios," Caules replied, smiling a bit. With the conversation finished, Caules stood up and left…

* * *

Unlike many traditional magi, Caules, and indeed, most of the Yggdmillennia clan as a whole, actually had a working knowledge of modern technology, aside from electricity. Though, at the moment, he was the only one in the castle who made use of an actual computer.

Despite having a loving sister, Caules still felt very isolated among his family, which was why he normally spent a great deal of his personal time, when not looking after Fiore or practicing his mage craft, playing videogames, watching movies, or surfing the internet, the latter of which he was doing at the moment, after his talk with his Servant.

Mostly, he was looking up legends about his Servant, and Minos, and such.

Suddenly, his inbox pinged. A new message from a personal blog that he had set up a while back. Odd. It was on a private server, and he only really used it to write down his thoughts on things. Nothnig mage-craft related, of course, but just things that any "normal" teenager would think and worry about. He clicked on the message. The username from the message sender read _Batz-Castlemore#checker6._ With some slight trepidation mixed with curiosity, Caules clicked open the message.

 _"Hey,"_ _Batz-Castlemore#checker6_ had written. _"Wassup, my bro? How're things?"_

Caules had no idea how this person had found this blog. Feeling curious, he hesitantly decided to respond.

 _"I am feeling well. How did you find this blog?"_ Sent.

Reply. _"No need to worry about it, my man. Let's talk."_

 _"Okay…"_ Sent.

Reply. _"No need to be so uptight, bro! Here, I'll start! I'm an author who steals and copies material shamelessly when I have to, and even when I don't have to! So, now that you know who I am, how about you, Mr. Backup Magus, Caules Forvedge Yggdmillennia?"_

….. What? What the hell?! As Caules was about to turn off his computer in fear, another message popped up. _"Now, little bro, before you go log off and then go and do something monumentally stupid, sit for a bit longer, and take a look at these pictures! They are awesome!"_

The pictures were of him, Fiore, the other masters, their servants, the golems and homunculi, as well as the battle in Trifas the night before. How the hell was this possible?!

 _"I'm finding your silence to be a bit rude, bro! Answer in the next minute, or these photos will end up going all over the internet and newspapers. Wouldn't that just be a blast?"_

Crap. _"What do you want?"_ Sent.

Reply. _"Now we're talking! For now, nada! Just keep on being a good little backup Master of Berserker for ya faction. But, should you think of any interesting topics to talk about, then how about sending them my way, ya hear me? Just don't tell ya crazy family or cute sister about me, kay? Play by my rules, and who knows? I might even make ya the hero of this crazy story! If ya don't though… well, ya know how it goes! See ya!"_

Caules waited for ten long, nerve wracking minutes, and, when there were no further messages, he slumped down in his chair, head cradled in his hands.

Crap. What was he going to do now? What should he do?

What could he do?

* * *

Outside the walls of Millennia Castle, Saber stood with a simple wooden katana that he had requested Caster craft for him.

Even though he was a Servant, and thus incapable of losing his skills, he still felt it best keep himself occupied with practicing the forms of the technique passed down to him by his father, each form just as clear in his mind and muscle memory as if he were still alive.

Junnuki;rise from seiza and draw, stand in defensive posture with left foot forward. Step forward with right foot and cut while dropping on the knee and shifting back. Withdraw the right foot and slide back until you are on the right knee with left foot forward, while raising the sword. Repeat the cut (chiburi) without shifting the body.

Hirakinuki;from seiza slide the right foot far forward and cut horizontally very close to the ground, bending forward. (the left knee turns outward while doing this) Sit straight, arm and cut while shifting forward.

Hikimi; From seiza come up into sonkyo, lean back to evade a cut, and draw upward in gyaku kesa. Pull the right foot back far and take hasso (sort of) Left hand now grabs the tsuka too, cut diagonal and the right foot steps next to the left in sonkyo and in the same action pull the left foot back far at the end of the cut. Repeat the cut without moving.

After those, going all the way to Makikiri, Jubei would then repeat all seven forms.

Cycling through these forms helped him to remain centered and calm. Ever since his summoning, he had found himself doing this a great deal, especially after meeting with his master. At the very least, his portly fool of a master had not bothered to call upon him since their argument.

Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia. What a simple, deluded little man. Straight off the bat, Saber could tell right away that the man's ego was near fit to burst. The swordsman had met many like him in his travels; people with an extreme amount of self-worth who, though not necessarily bad people, were still doomed to be crushed by the world under the titanic weight of their own ego and expectations.

Nevertheless, in terms of quality, Saber supposed that he could have ended up with a worse master. At least the fool's mana reserves were more than adequate enough to keep Jubei at near full power, even without the homunculi back-up system in place.

 _"You forget, I've seen your memories in the dream cycle! I know what happened to you for those twelve years! Why would you want to erase any of that?"_

Jubei's eye narrowed in distaste at that memory. What did his "Master" know? What did any of the masses know about the burdens that he had been shouldered with, and what he desired above all else?

Perhaps if they did, then they would understand…. Why being regarded as a Hero was a curse.

Shaking his head, Yagyu Jubei resumed his practice, letting his mind go blank with each swing of his wooden blade…

* * *

 _Stavropoleos Church Cemetery, Bucharest_

One of the things that Kairi had always liked about cemeteries was that, no matter the time of day, or its location, or even size, a cemetery was always rather quiet, which helped as a factor for a good base for him. Plus, there was the fact that people rarely visited cemeteries, though, just to safe, he had established a bounded field around it that subconsciously made people lose what little interest they had in the area and go away. It was perfect.

Now, though it was still a great location, ever since he had summoned Saber, it's quiet factor had dropped.

"Man, you must really be insane, to be cooping us up in this dreary catacomb all day," Saber complained, fingering a skull and lounging on her sleeping roll as she spoke.

Kairi did not pause in the whittling and sharpening of his hydra-bone dagger as he replied. "Just relax, would ya? Being here should allow you to regain your depleted magical energy pretty quickly."

With a groan, Saber tossed away the skull and crawled up to him. "The amount of magical energy that I have isn't the problem, dammit!"

"Oh, then what is it? Don't tell me that you're scared of a place like this."

"Screw you, I'm not scared of anything! I just can't stand getting such poor treatment in crappy place like this!"

"What's so crappy about it? It's easy to defend and hard to assault; in my book, it's a great place."

"You do realize that I used to be a knight, don't you? Even if I wasn't, no one even remotely normal would ever want to accept these conditions!"

"Okay, okay, I get it. If you want to go outside, you're more than welcome to do so."

Instead of placating her, somehow that offer only seemed to aggravate her even more. Case in point, she was now rolling on her back with her feet gripped in her hands and whining like a little kid. "But it's just so boring if I'm all by myself!"

"What are you, four years old or something?" Seriously, who would have thought that the infamous Knight of Rebellion would have the mental disposition of a kid?

She paused in her motions to glare at him. "Excuse me, but do you not remember that assault from last night, Master? The enemy clearly does not care if they attack in the middle of town. Plus, as you should well know, my Noble Phantasm is an Anti-Army type, and I refuse fight in any way that will involve commoners getting caught and killed in the crossfire."

Oh? Hmm, maybe she was a bit more mature than he had originally thought? Whatever. "Yeah, yeah, I'll try to make sure that civilians are far away from the vicinity, your Majesty."

Their campsite was quiet for a moment as he went back to his carving and whittling. Then, his last two words finally seemed to register in her brain. "Wait… what did you just call me?"

"I simply addressed you as a king should be addressed."

Judging from her confused silence as she sat up, Kairi continued. "You didn't know? You called the people 'commoners' instead of civilians. Now, a high and mighty word such as that is usually reserved for royalty. Besides," he paused in his work again and looked directly at his perplexed servant. "Your wish from the Grail is to become king, isn't it? So, if that's the case, then I don't see a reason why there should be any issue with me addressing you as a King in this situation, your Majesty. Unless you think there should be?"

That really seemed to throw his servant for a bit of a loop, making her look down in embarrassment. "Well… no…uh… I mean…"

He resumed his work. "Don't involve civilians in battle whenever possible. That is what you want, right?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I mean… Of course! That's right. The act of assaulting commoners for magical energy is also forbidden, just so you know!"

Fine by him. That sort of thing was not really his style anyway. "Then, with that said…" Their conversation was then interrupted by the skeleton arm device that he used for long distance communication with other magi beginning to move and write with the quill attached to its fingers, making a rattling sound that filled their living space.

Once the arm had finished writing, Kairi looked at the sent message. "It's from Shirou. What the…?"

Saber leaned over his shoulder and read the rest of it herself, the content of which caused her to smirk. "Wow. Says here that our side's Berserker just went out of control and is storming the enemy's fortress. Huh."

She then looked right at him and smirked, causing Kairi to groan in exasperation. Things… had just gotten a bit more complicated, it would seem.

* * *

 _The forest around Millennia Castle_

Thud… thud… thud. "heh heh heh Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Yehahahahahahaha!"

With each step, the ground seemed to shake.

With a mad, wide grin and a determined look in his wide eyes, Spartacus continued on his unwavering way towards the Millennia Castle, each of his steps punctuated with a loud thud and followed with more of his demented laughter.

Thud… thud… thud. "Yehahahahahahahahaha!"

As he continued forward, a part of the ground that he trod upon suddenly lit up with a blue magic circle. In the next second, seven more flashed all about him, before detonating in a massive explosion of fire and smoke.

A moment later, the Servant of Madness emerged from the smoke with a swing of his sword, seemingly unscathed, and not at all deterred in his goal. "Ha ha ha ha ha!"

Meanwhile, his two pursuers, a young man with green hair, and a beauty with long white hair, stood in the trees, watching the Servant of Madness as he continued on his way, laughing and swinging his sword about as he did so.

"Oppressors! Yehahahaha! I am coming for you! Fear my righteous wrath as I come to topple you from your lofty, gleaming towers of evil, injustice and oppression! Yehahahahaha!"

Thud… thud… thud…

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

From within the throne room, the Black Faction watched as the image of the mad servant making his way towards their headquarters was transmitted through a familiar.

"Comrades," Darnic said, from his customary place at the left side of Lancer's throne. "Regardless of the time of day, the servant you see here is headed straight towards Millennia Castle. I can only assume that this servant is the Berserker of Red."

As he spoke, the Berserker suddenly slashed forward, and the image cut out.

"So, what should be done," Fiore asked. "Anything?"

The smile upon Darnic's face would have sent chills down the spine of a demon. "Why, we take advantage of it, of course. If we play our cards right, then soon we can turn this berserker of Red into a very useful pawn."

"Well then, Darnic," Vlad III said with a dignified grin, as he rose from his throne. "Tell me of your strategy. Then, we shall let the curtains rise on this glorious battle."

Darnic gave a deep bow. "Of course, my lord."

As he bowed, no one noticed the frightful sneer that etched itself onto his lips.

* * *

 _Forrest around Millennia Castle_

Despite having been running for over a day, Spartacus was in no way slowing down. Indeed, to his two pursuers, it seemed that with every step that took the mad Servant closer to the enemy base, the wilder and more invigorated that he became, with his laughter piercing the night.

He was laughing as golems surrounded him and impaled him with large spikes of stone and metal and wood, making him spit out blood between his grinning teeth, and he laughed as he cut and smashed through them with blade and fist, all with the force of a speeding train. Each act of battle and brutality, even upon the emotionless golems, seemed to spurn on his laughter, until it reached neigh-maniacal heights. Through it all, he ignored the four large spikes that still perforated his back.

"Yehhahaahahahahahahahahaha!"

From the trees, upon branches that held despite their occupants being armored, stood the Rebel Gladiator's pursuers. One was a vision of startling, pale-skinned beauty. She had a deceptively delicate, though perfect, body encased from neck to toe in well-crafted silver armor generously decorated with wing motifs, and the armor was seamlessly intertwined with a long black and purple tabard and dress. Her white hair was long, reaching her ankles, and had a teal accent that, to any who looked upon it, made her hair seem somewhat reminiscent of a clear night sky. Her eyes, a sad and deep amethyst, were currently focused upon the mad Berserker.

Her companion was a young, lean and muscled man of a strong and firm build and a tanned, Mediterranean complexion, much like a certain Archer of Black. He was clad in black metal and leather armor with yellow highlights, pauldrons, greaves, sabatons, cuisse and vambraces, along with two long strips of orange cloth streaming from his shoulder-blades. The whole set was oddly formfitting in some places. Belted at his side was a simple sword of ancient Greek design.

This fellow's most distinguishing features were his sharp and clear raptor-like eyes, and his yellow-green hair, which was close shaven to his scalp, save for a shock of it that stood up like a proud crest, and one large bang that fell across the left side of his face. This man was the sort who would always be found at the head of a charging army with a smile on his face, a smile that, outside of the battlefield, could send even the most virtuous of maidens and wives into a blushing fluster. Such a smile he now aimed at his companion.

"Man, Bryn, I'll say this for the big guy, if he had been at Troy, then that city would have fallen in a single day, and they wouldn't have needed that ridiculous horse!" The green-haired man laughed, as he leaned against the trunk.

The woman looked at him, blushed softly, and then shook her head before replying. "Perhaps, though, after a whole day of pursuing him, I am starting to wonder if it would be better to perhaps leave him behind. What do you think, Rider?"

"Please, call me Achilles, Bryn, and, as to your question… It's probably for the best. Though, if you want to try and convince him to just turn around and quietly go back to base, then be my guest."

"My apologies. You have a good point, Achilles."

"You're too kind. Anyway, while we're here, how about we take the time to see what we're up against?"

"As long as we're careful. But, if Spartacus unleashes his Noble Phantasm, then we must get as far away as possible, as much as I wish otherwise. I just hope our masters will not look too harshly on that."

The grin disappeared off of the Hero of the Trojan War's face at the mention of their masters. "Our masters, huh?"

With a frown, he looked down at his hand. "Hey, Bryn?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me, have you even met your master? Seen their face, or even talked to them?"

The Love-Struck Valkyrie looked up at him in surprise, and then considered his question. "Hmm, now that you mention it… No. The only Masters that I've interacted with since my summoning have been that Priest, Kotomine, as well as that strange girl."

"Yeah. Me too. The paths are connected, and every order is relayed, and yet, aside from the Priest and the "girl," they never show themselves, and i don't even know my Master's name. This is altogether a very odd situation, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, though, maybe they are just reluctant to make themselves visible targets. It is not a foolish tactic. All the magi I ever knew, even during the Age of Gods, often preferred to lurk and secrete themselves away in the shadows, instead of stepping into the light. But this? Even for magi, this seems an unusually cowardly way of doing things."

As they discussed their odd situation, on the ground, Spartacus continued smashing and fighting and pulverizing golems, laughing and accruing more wounds all the while. "Yehahahahaha! More! Come on, give me more!" he exclaimed with a grin that, somehow seemed a bit wider than before. It was a wonder that the sides of his mouth had not split.

Achilles, the Rider of the Red Faction, looked down upon the Berserker, and then sighed and shrugged. "You know, at this rate, it's no longer a question of 'if', but rather 'when' that Noble Phantasm of his goes off…."

As he spoke, Brynhildr, the Lancer of Red, jerked her head up in surprise with a gasp, interrupting Achilles' observation of their current situation. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's them. They're coming," she replied.

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

At the front entrance of the great Castle, Lancer, Darnic, Celenike, Rider, Bazett, Roche and Caster were assembled, with Lancer mounted atop a special clockwork-and-golem horse designed for him by Caster and Roche.

In the distance, the seven could make out the Berserker of Red's path towards them as trees fell.

Darnic shook his head and sighed. "Such a gruesome sight. It is almost as if the Berserker of Red was born to fight, which means that his life is preordained to end in battle."

Next to him, Rider scratched his head. "Still, it's weird to see a Berserker speaking in something that's not just growls or one words. Even when I went all out, words were not really something that came easily, ya know?"

"Despite the fact that he is articulate, I believe that there is little chance of us being able to come to any understanding with him. Such a hero considers anything that stands in his line of sight as his enemy."

Rider shrugged. "Ah, well. What can ya do, am I right?"

From atop his steed, Lancer spoke. "It is now time for us to crush this mad insurgent from the Red Faction. Rider, you shall be the first."

Celenike lightly tapped her hand with her switch, but, before she could open her mouth to speak, Bazett spoke first, lightly punching Rider on his shoulder. "You heard him, Cu Chulainn. Go forth and show us your power as the Child of Light! Give that big bastard no mercy!"

Ignoring the fuming look on Celenike's face, Rider stretched out his neck, and then gave his friend a thumbs up and a fanged grin. "You got it! Finally, some action. I was starting to get bored!"

He held out his hand, and, in a flash of blue and red particles materialized a long crimson spear. It was covered in what looked like small vines, and yet the spear seemed to emit an aura of pure bloodlust. Giving the weapon a few experimental twirls, Rider's grin turned bloodthirsty, which, combined with his sharp teeth and facial tattoos, made for a very intimidating sight, to say the least. "All right! Watch and learn, people! I'm gonna show you all just what I'm capable of!"

In the very next moment, within the space of a blink it would seem, the Hound of Chulainn was off in a blue flash, speeding away towards the rampaging Berserker.

The trees blurred past him, and, before he knew Cu Chulainn found himself face-to-face with the Berserker of Red, admits the smashed remains of golems.

Neither one being the sort to mince words, the two rushed one another. With a great bellow, Spartacus swung his large iron blade down upon Rider, who blocked with his spear, as if it were a quarter staff. The two weapons impacted with a loud and clear clang.

The two pushed against the other for a moment, before their combined strength made them both push off of the other. With a distance of several feet between them, Spartacus pointed his blade in Rider's direction. "Behold, oppressors! The time has come for arrogance to collapse and the pride of the strong to be scattered! Hahahahaha!"

In response, Rider twirled his spear again, before setting it under his arm and settling into a stance. "Man, for a Berserker, you sure like to hear the sound of your own voice! If you have enough time to yap, then you should instead be fighting!"

His mad grin widening at that declaration, Spartacus surged forward like a herd of bison.

Matching the grin with one of his own, Rider sped towards the mad servant once more. As he got within two feet, he suddenly ducked low, dragging his hand across the ground, dodged and parried under the swing of the sword with a shower of sparks, and then lightly tapped the Berserker's hamstring as he slid past the rampaging brute.

As he got to his feet, and the Berserker turned around for another charge, Rider grinned, and snapped his fingers.

The gandr rune had had quickly traced on Berserker's leg suddenly glowed and detonated into a small shower of sickly light, withering the Servant of Madness' limb, and sending him tumbling to the ground, though he managed to catch himself with his free hand.

Rider smirked and set his spear across his shoulders. "That should keep you down for at least a bit, big guy. Gandr is a curse made to decrease the physical health of a target, so, with a little tweaking, I made it so that it can target a particular area, instead of the whole target. My teacher always made sure I had a perfect working knowledge of runecraft, along with my martial skills. She was always insistent about that sort of thing."

Spartacus, instead of bellowing in agony at his weakened limb, instead kept laughing. "Yehhahahahahahaha! A neat trick, but you're going to have to do better than that to beat me!"

With his working leg and supporting arm, Berserker pushed off, his sword held high to slash away as he flew towards Rider.

A moment later, the Rebel Gladiator's momentum was arrested when several glowing spikes suddenly erupted from the ground and impaled him through his sword arm, sending him kneeling to the ground.

Rider smirked again and walked away, giving the brute a mocking wave. "Well, looks like that Christian king wants a piece of the action. Eh, good thing I'm not too greedy when it comes to this sort of thing. Good fight though big guy. Thanks."

The sound of hoofbeats mixed with footsteps made the grinning, impaled madman turn to gaze upon the sight of Lancer, Bazett, Celenike, Darnic, Roche and Caster as they approached the battlefield, walking among the shattered trees and wrecked golems.

Vlad III gently spurred his steed forward, looking like a conquering king about to pass judgement upon his defeated foes. "Ah, the rebellious servant, the Berserker of the Red Faction. If what you seek are those with power, then look no further, for the most powerful being in all of this land is currently standing before you."

Spartacus tore at the impaling stakes as he swung around to get a better look at the Lancer of Black. "Yehahahaha! Then that means that you are the oppressor!" He stood up, still ignoring the stakes through his arm, actually pulling them out of the ground with him. "Oh oppressor! Allow me to sing you a song of triumph!"

With a sigh, Rider snapped his fingers. On the ground at Berserker's feet, a number of Ingwaz runes glowed a verdant green, and then a large mass of earth and plant life enveloped the mad warrior, though he managed to keep his sword arm free and aimed straight towards Lancer.

Lancer's raised hand glowed a dark and forbidding mixture of crimson and black, and he calmly spoke the name of his phantasm as he then clenched the glowing hand into a fist. " **Kazekli Bei.** "

The shaking sword stopped mere inches from Lancer's eye, though he did not even flinch. "Your rebellion shows that, beneath your madness, you are a noble soul, and thus, one that does not see the strong dominating the weak as fair game."

As he spoke, more and more spikes erupted from the ground to impale the still-grinning Berserker through the mesh of earth and wood, and through his grey flesh. More went into his arm, making Spartacus finally drop his sword with a clang. Lancer smiled thinly and bowed his head briefly at the Servant of Madness. "This is the first time that I have ever wished to give my respect to a rebel. For that, you have my congratulations, for that is a rare thing indeed."

Spartacus's mad eyes narrowed in concentration, as if he were trying to swim through the madness that was continuously clouding his mind. "N-now, oppressor! I shall take you down!"

Lancer looked upon him with less respect, and more disdain. "Rebel, you shall change your course."

Several more spikes erupted from the ground, this time impaling the Rebel Gladiator through his thickly muscled neck. As steam rose from his wounds and between his clenched teeth, Berserker's pale blue eyes rolled to the back of his head, and, with a final grunt, he fell unconscious.

Lancer turned her horse around, and slowly headed back to the fortress. "I leave the rest to you all."

Bazett headed over to Lancer and held out her fist. He returned the gesture with a fist and a smile. "Awesome work Rider! Bloody well done!"

Rider chuckled. "Thanks!"

Celenike clutched at her switch so tightly that it was a wonder the rod did not snap in half.

Darnic looked towards Da Vinci, who was examining the unconscious brute while rubbing his chin. "Caster," Darnic said. "I am going to sever this Servant's path, and then force a pact with him. If you would, please assist me."

Caster looked up from his observation. "Of course."

Darnic then spoke again. "Celenike, Roche, I shall have you two assist as well."

As the boy nodded his assent, Celenike's eyes were firmly trained on her sister and Rider as they chatted away, the anger lurking behind her spectacles a very palpable thing. Darnic suppressed the desire to sigh. "Celenike..."

Her head popped up at Darnic's tone. "Yeah, fine."

Ignoring the woman for now, Darnic glanced back towards Millennia Castle, and mentally reached out through the collective connection of the Black Faction masters and Servants. _"Archer are you in position?"_

From atop one of the battlements of the Castle, Chiron stood with bow and arrow drawn, while Fiore accompanied him. He would have preferred to have stood directly on top of them, but, due to his horse body, that was not in the cards.

 _"Yes,"_ he replied. _I am ready."_

Darnic then considered his next move. The choices on available servants for dealing with the ones who had been trailing the Berserker of Red were limited for now. Lancer would not deign to waste his time with them, besides the fact that he was already on his way back to the Castle. He could also tell that Saber and Gordes were not yet enough in synch to have the Servant of the Sword be present and follow orders, at least without Gorde's pride making him do something colossally stupid. It seemed that he would have to talk with the fool later.

Berserker would have been ideal, but, due to the Bull of Minos' sheer bulk and the size of his weapons, Darnic had thought it best that the Minotaur be relegated to fighting only in open spaces (ironic, considering his legend).

Caster had little actual combat ability to speak, which left only the Hound of Chulainn.

"Rider." The blue haired servant looked up at the declaration of his title. "I shall leave Berserker's shadows for you to take care of."

The Servant of the Mount grinned. "As long as I get to keep fighting, then point me at as many enemies as you want!"

Bazett grinned. "Knock them dead, ya madcap bastard!"

With that, Rider sped off deeper into the forest.

* * *

Leaning against a tree, Achilles whistled an old song his father had once taught him. After having witnessed Spartacus' capture, he and Brynhildr had decided to split up, with him stay behind for a bit to ward off any stragglers, and her heading straight back. He would not have minded fighting alongside such a beautiful woman in a dark forest, but, unfortunately, that massive spear of hers would have been more of a hindrance in this area. So, here he was.

He then watched as… a single servant entered his area.

He got up from his leaning position and looked over this servant with a mocking grin, while he shifted his grip on Diatrekhōn Astēr Lonkhē. "Huh, just one? Seems like I'm being underestimated. Did they really think that only one Servant was enough? I can't help but feel insulted!"

His new opponent gave a smirk of his own as he hefted his own spear. "You're preaching to the bloody choir, kid! I was thought there was two of you, but instead only one? You feel insulted? How about me?"

At that declaration, Achilles' grin only grew. "Heh. You know what, I think I like you. Shame that you have to die!" With that, he shifted and twirled Diatrekhōn Astēr Lonkhēin his hands, pointing its three-pronged head at the blue-haired servant's tattooed head. "My class is Rider, but don't worry, I won't be using my chariot. I hardly need it with only you here."

His motion was mirrored by his opponent. "Same here!"

Oh, so he was a Rider too? Things were starting to get interesting! "Enough talk then. Are you prepared, because I'm going to show you what it means to be a true warrior!"

"Fine by me!" A second later, in two great burst of speed, Diatrekhōn Astēr Lonkhē and the crimson spear collided against each other in a small explosion of power and sound!

* * *

From his position, with his clairvoyance skill in full use, Chiron watched with great interest as Rider and Achilles clashed. Yes, he knew exactly who Rider of Red was. What good teacher would not recognize one of his own students?

Originally, he had thought that he would be the one to fight his former student in this war, but now, it would seem that honor would be given to Rider.

Interesting, considering how similar the two seemed.

But, he still kept his bow knocked and at the ready, just in case…

* * *

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Both with wide grins on their faces, the Rider of Red and the Rider of Black fought, while their laughter pierced the air.

One moment, Red was pushing forward, then Black. Their spearpoints flashed and cut through the air like scythes, while they employed the shafts of their weapons like quarter staves. Back and forth, back and forth, neither one managing to land a blow on the other, and each collision of their weapons making their bloodlust grow.

As their weapons parted, both jumped back several feet, before rushing forward once again.

Almost as if they were of similar minds, they found themselves in a mirrored lock; each gripping the other's weapon in their free hand.

As they struggled and pushed against the other's grip, Achilles smirked. "Is that really all you got, you blue haired bastard? You aren't nowhere near qualified enough to fight against me!" As he said this, the Son of Peleus suddenly reared back his head, and slammed his forehead into Rider of Black's with a loud crack.

Though it snapped his head back, to the blue-haired man's credit, he did not lose his grip. Instead, with a mad grin on his face, he then sent his own forehead smashing towards Achilles'!

Achilles did not even try to dodge, thinking that nothing would happen. How wrong he was. With another loud crack, Rider of Black's head slammed into Rider of Red's with enough force to make him lose his grip on the crimson spear and send him staggering back, while Rider of Black jumped back to reorient himself. Even for Servants, headbutting was still a dizzying thing to do!

As he struggled tp keep himself oriented, Achilles then felt an odd, warm, and wet sensation suddenly begin to run down his forehead.

"What the..." With a shaking hand, he reached up, and felt it; it was blood. His blood…. His blood!

For a moment, he just looked at the substance in surprise, as if he was unused to the sight of his own blood. Then… he began to laugh, and that laughter was full of joy and blood lust, enough to send whole armies fleeing in fear, before looking straight at Rider of Black, ignoring the blood the ran down his face.

"Hahahahahahahahahaha! Yes, yes, YES! Isn't this wonderful, Rider of Black? Fighting against one who can actually best me was destined! Oh, Gods of Oylmpus, may you grant the both of us honor and sacred glory in this battle!"

Rider of Black cracked his neck joints and grinned again. "Are you just going to wax poetic, greenine, or are you going to keep fighting?"

Achille's expression could not have been more joyous. "Though it pains me to say it, for now I have to retreat!" He then raised two fingers to his lips and whistled.

In a bright and blinding flash, lighting came down from the night sky and struck the ground before him, and from it emerged a large metal chariot pulled by three majestic and strong-muscled horses, and it was speeding past him.

As he leapt onto it, rushing away in a clatter of hoofbeats and wheel clatter, Achilles turned to look back at the Rider of Black. "Let us settle this challenge next time! Perhaps then, I can learn your true name! Hahahahahaha!"

Then, to Rider of Black's slight surprise, the chariot, horses and all, lifted off the ground and zoomed and arced away through the sky in a comet-like blaze of white lightning, all the while Rider of Red's laughter filled the night sky!

From the ground, Cu Chulainn watched, and then chuckled. "Bring it on, Rider of Red! I'll be waiting!"

With that, he vanished into spirit form to make his way back. What an good battle! Bazett would love to hear about this!

* * *

As he watched his former student speed away into the distance, Chiron lowered his bow, and then chuckled. How ironic it was, for not only his former student to be in this War, as well as the fact that their own faction had the perfect counter to Achilles in the form of Cu Chulainn.

Two children of divine parentage, each having lived and died a fast, battle-torn life. He supposed that to them, the sight of the other must have been like looking into a mirror.

Fiore looked at her servant as he continued to chuckle. "What is it, Chiron?"

The centaur sage looked upon his master and smiled. "It would seem that the Red faction's Rider, and the opponent that our Rider will be facing in this Great Holy grail War, is a former student of mine."

* * *

From one of the castle's many windows, Caules watched as Caster, Darnic, Roche, Bazett, Celenike, and a small host of golems and homunculi carefully brought in the captured and encased Berserker of Red.

With a swallow of discomfort, Caules turned and made his way to his room as innocuously as possible, avoiding any of the homunculi servants whenever possible.

Once there, he closed his door, went to his computer, logged on to _Little Brother with Glasses_ , and sent a message.

 _"The Berserker of Red has been captured and brought here. Darnic plans to turn him over to our side._ " Sent.

Reply. _"Oh, very interesting. Thanks for the tip bro! Good work, A+!_

Caules sighed. He was already feeling guilty doing this, but what choice did he have? Though, if Darnic found out about this, Caules' death would not be quick. Worse, his grandfather might even hand him over to Celenike!

He slumped in his chair. Why was this happening to him?

Then, he got another new message. _"Tell ya what, as a little reward, let me tell ya something. Yer side's Assassin… well lets just say in regards to her and her NEW master, shit's gone off the rails. Do with that as you will! Bye!"_

What? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

 **A/N Poor Caules. Enjoy, read and review. Also, I apologize for the fight scenes, I am not very good at writing out such things.**

 **A/N 2 Here are the Servant stats for the red Faction, since I have revealed their names.**

 **Servants of Red**

Saber: Mordred

Master: Kairi Sisigou

 **Stats**

STR: B+

END: A

AGI: B

MAN: B

LCK: D

NP: A+

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: B

Riding: B

 **Personal Skills**

Instinct: B

Mana Burst: A

Battle Continuation: B

Charisma: C-

 **Noble Phantasms**

Secret of Pedigree: C

Clarent: C

Clarent Blood Arthur: A+

* * *

Lancer: Brynhildr

STR: B+

END: A

AGI: A

MAN: A+

LCK: E

NP: A

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: B

Riding: A

Divinity: E

 **Personal Skills**

Mana Burst (Flames)

Primordial Rune: -

Hero's Bridesmaid: C

Fateweaver: B

 **Noble Phantasm(s)**

Brynhildr Romantia: B+

Gungnir, Declaration of the Great God: B

Gyllir: A. The horse of the gods. Resembles a Pegasus. Despite not being summoned in the Rider class, or having the double summon feature, Brynhilldr still has access to the horse, due to her own legend of being a Valkyrie, who rode winged horses, and that she ran a farm that "produced excellent horses."

* * *

Archer: Karna

STR B

END A

AGI A

MAN A

LCK A++

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: C

Independent Action: A+

Divinity: A

 **Personal Skills**

Mana Burst (Flames and Lightning): A+

Riding: A

Uncrowned Armed Mastery: -

Clairvoyance: A

Discernment of the Poor: A

 **Noble Phantasms**

Sun Dagger (Anti-defense) B+: The Dagger that Karna used to cut away his armor thus is now an anti-defense phantasm.

Vjiya, Bow of Assured Victory A+++ Grants its wielder a rank up in luck, and something akin to instinct. When it's full power is released, it is comparable to the Sword of Promised Victory.

Kavacha and Kundala A: Reduces all attacks against him to 1/10 of their original power and value.

Bramahstra Kundala A+

Agnito Mantra: Upon the activation of this Phantasm, an arrow released from Vjiya becomes 80,000 each as strong as an A+ ranked phantasm.

Varun Astra A+: Manifests as an arrow of Water.

Nagastra: A+: Anti-Person: Can hit one target unerringly, though, should the target be Arjuna, it will not hit his head.

Brahmanda astra: Anti-Divine Construct: A++. A phantasm that can only be described as a defensive weapon.

Bhargava Astra: A

Pashupatastra: EX

* * *

Rider: Achilles

 **Stats**

STR: B+

END: A

AGI: A+

MAN: C

LCK: D

N.P.: A+

 **Class Skills**

Riding: A+

Magic Resistance: C

 **Personal Skills**

Battle Continuation: A

Bravery: A+

Affections of the Goddess: B

Divnity: C

 **Noble Phantasms**

Troias Tragōidia: A

Dromeus Komētēs: A+

Andreias Amarantos: B

Diatrekhōn Astēr Lonkhē: B+

Akhilleus Kosmos: A+

* * *

Caster: Prelati

Master: Francisca

 **Stats**

STR: E

END: D

AGI: C

MAN: A

LCK: B

N.P.: A

 **Class Skills**

Item Construction: B

Territory Creation: B

 **Personal Skills**

Enchant: A (Ordinarily, he would not have this skill but he does, due to the peculiarities of his summoning)

Illusionism: A

Disciple of Elemental Spirits: B

Divinity: E-

 **Noble Phantasms**

Grand illusion: A

Prelati's Spellbook: EX

* * *

Berserker: Spartacus

STR: A

END: EX

AGI: D

MAN: E

LCK: D

NP: A+

 **Class Skills**

Mad Enhancement: EX

 **Personal Skills**

Honor of the Battered: B+

Unyielding Will: A

Triumphant Return of the Sword: B

 **Noble Phantasm**

Crying Warmonger: A+

* * *

Assassin: Semiramis

Master: Shirou Kotomine

 **Stats**

STR: E

END: D

AGI: D

MAN: A

LCK: A

N.P.: EX

 **Class Skills**

Presence Concealment: C+

Territory Creation: EX

Item Construction: C

 **Personal Skills**

Familiar (Doves): D

Double Summon: B

Divinity: C

 **Noble Phantasms**

Hanging Gardens of Babylon: EX

Sikera Ušum: B+


	4. Chapter 4

Blood, Obsidian, Ocean chapter 4

 **Disclaimer: The following scene is full of what I can only begin to describe as rotten lemons and squick. You have been warned. You may skip it if you like.**

* * *

Millennia Castle

The current scene in the dungeons was one of horror, like something out of a slasher film: Celenike, nude as an infant, save for her spectacles, straddling and _sheathing_ the brutalized, dismembered, and equally naked corpse of one of the castles many homunculi butlers.

After helping to bring in Berserker of Red and creating the basis of a new Pact between the brute and Darnic, Celenike had felt the need to vent herself. So, she had "volunteered" this particular homunculus.

Of course, her idea of venting stress always involved rape, cursing, murder and dismemberment… and not always in that order.

Hours later, long after the poor homunculi had expired, she still kept shifting herself up and down on his still engorged organ, each motion punctuated by her stabbing the bloody knife in her hand into the butler's already multiperforated chest.

Up, down, squelch. Up, down, stab. Up and down, up and down.

All the while, as she rode high upon this abhorrent wave of rage-and-necrophilia-fueled ecstasy that swelled through her body and center, Celenike kept her eyes glued on the image that floated over the menorah that kept the room lit. The image was a real time transmission of her little sister (whose stupid little neck should have broken while she was still in the cradle), and Rider.

Her Rider. She had summoned him, so that meant he was supposed to be hers! These thoughts kept screaming and clawing through her head as she finally climaxed, screaming in release as all the while she watched as Rider and Bazett chatted away in the projection. Up, down, stab and squelch. Up, down, stab and squelch! Up, down, stab and squelch! Up, down, stab and squelch! UP, DOWN, STAB AND SQUELCH!

After a while of letting the feeling of orgasmic climax flow through her and subside, she finally slid herself off with a grunt and sat down in the chair that was adjacent to the torture table.

As she panted, and her sweat and bodily fluids began to dry on her bare skin, Celenike ground her teeth and clutched her knife tightly, as she watched as Rider materialized his spear for Bazett to admire, while they both laughed.

"I don't get it. That little bitch. Why is she so special to him? Her, a fucking spare who should have been strangled at birth! Why, why, why why?!"

With each 'why,' she kept stabbing the still corpse that she had just been raping again and again. Up and down. Up and down.

"I will never, ever forgive her! Cu Chulainn shouldn't be paying attention to anyone else but me! Only me!"

Like her younger sister, Celenike had also been a great admirer of the tales of the Ulster Cycle, and, to a certain point, an admirer of Cu Chulainn. Though, that was where the only real similarity between the siblings ended. Not surprisingly, even at a young age, Celenike had always found the stories of Queen Medb to be more relatable and exciting to her sense and imagination.

As her rage cooled, a devilish idea suddenly inseminated itself, and began to gestate, inside her dark and twisted mind, and she began to rub herself all over in excitement. "Yeah… that's right."

Her breathing grew faster, and her hand slipped down towards her pelvis. "I'll gouge out that little bitch's eyes, chop off her arms one by one, rip out her tongue from the back of her throat, and when I do…"

Despite having recently climaxed, she could feel the heat welling up within her once again, as her hand began its ministrations, the blood began to course, her breath began to hitch, and arousal fluid began to soak the chair. "When I do, when I make that little bitch suffer, I want to make absolutely sure that Rider also suffers!"

Faster, faster, FASTER! "Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" As she moaned, she resumed her stabbing of the dead homunculi with her free hand. "I'll violate you! The both of you, but her first!"

Up, down, stab! Faster, faster, FASTER! "When we win this war, _Setanta_ , I'll use up all of my command seals on you! Every single one of them will go to making you squirm and beg and scream! The both of you! I might even force you to make her scream in agony! Yes, yes, yes, YES, YES, YES, YES! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! YES, YES, YES, YES!"

* * *

Within Darnic's study, as the sun shined brightly into the dimly-lit room, Darnic studied his reset chessboard of red and black, with each piece wrought to resemble the artistic depictions of each of the seven Servant classes.

Darnic moved one of the red berserker pieces across to the black side of the board. "With their Berserker now in our hands, it is only a matter of time before the Red Faction will be forced to make their next move," Lancer observed, as he looked out the window, and over the fields of the Millennia Castle.

"Indeed," Darnic replied. "Though, we will be more than ready when they do. We still have all six of our current servants on hand, plus Berserker."

"Six? So, I take it that you have heard nothing from Assassin's master as of yet?"

"No. That little rat would have contacted me by now. The Zugzwang have also gone silent, which is… troubling."

"Perhaps, but it is not something that you should be concerned about for now. We still have complete control of the battlefield, so, when the Red Faction attacks, they will be at an almost complete disadvantage."

Darnic considered his Servant's words. Despite knowing that Lancer was correct in his analysis, Darnic still felt a slight unease. With Assassin's silence, he now had to discard a portion off his plans for this war. Plus, if one had too much confidence in their own abilities and plans, then they were almost begging fate to humble them in the most severe ways imaginable. That was a harsh lesson which he had learned well, in the Third Holy Grail war of Fuyuki. Despite having triumphed, to a degree, in the end, the theft of the Holy Grail had not been the main plan going in, merely a backup that he had concocted, just in case.

Almost unconsciously, he found himself rubbing at the center of his chest….

He then decided to change the subject and distract himself from unpleasant memories. "Have Caster and Rider finished with your armaments, my lord?"

"Yes. The Genius of Vinci has deigned to let me look upon them and they are magnificent to behold. He is almost done with the finishing touches."

"I am glad to hear it, my lord. With it, alongside your heightened abilities, you will be neigh unstoppable."

Lancer's most powerful ability, his ace in the hole, his Demonic Defender of the State skill, gave him an exponential boost in power when in his chosen territory, especially here, in the heart of Romania, making him more than equally comparable to Heracles being summoned in Greece, or King Arthur being summoned in Britain.

Unfortunately, an ace in the hole could also be just as easily turned into a damning dead hand, as the saying went. Should Lancer be in anyway removed from his territory, as unlikely as that were to happen, then all his accrued power would drop exponentially. In essence, as he was now, Vlad III's power was at a perfect "ten." Outside of his territory, however, it would become, at most, an average "six."

There was a way of countering such a steep drop in his power, Lancer's second phantasm, but unfortunately, due to the King of Romania's obstinate pride, he had made it abundantly clear to Darnic, with a heavy promise of death floating in the king's words, that the Impaling Lord would in no way ever use it, even if it could save his existence. The crystallization of his undeserved reputation, spread about the world by the words of Bram Stoker; The Noble Phantasm, **Legend of Dracula**.

Darnic had actually thought to keep the details of Lancer's Demonic Defender of the State's limitations to himself, mostly out of spite, but had then immediately thought better of it. So, after informing Lancer of them, the two had tasked Caster with finding a solution to this problem, and it was one that the Polymath of the Renaissance had approached with a manic relish.

Perhaps Lancer was right. Perhaps all would be well….

But, if that were the case, why then was he still nervously rubbing at what lay beneath his shirt?

* * *

 _… I remember…_

 _I remember how it had been a bright and happy day. The king had returned! What an opportunity! A chance to lay eyes upon the King, and the knights of the Round Table!_

 _All, nobles and peasant alike, watched with cheer and adoring as these knights among knights rode upon noble and fine steed through the city. My siblings Agravain, Gareth, Gaheris and Gawain, Tristain the bard, Galahad, the great Lancelot du Lac, and even the mighty Sorceress herself, Merlin! Of course, all of these were outshined by the one at the head of this procession. The Wielder of Excalibur, the Lion of Camelot, the king of Knights himself, Arthur Pendragon!_

 _"Our king!" "Arthur Pendragon!" The promised king!" "Three cheers!"_

 _Through it all, the great king, a young man with short blonde hair and gleaming blue and silver armor and tabard, rode through. At times, he gave a small wave to the crowd, but, for the most part, his kingly face was impassive, almost sad even. I sometimes wondered why._

 _In one of the many alleyways, behind the crowd, I had watched from under my cloak as the king and his knights rode by. "That's him. That's Arthur, the King of Knights," I whispered to myself._

 _Behind me, I had felt my mother's presence as she gently put her hands on my shoulders. It was the gentlest that I could ever remember her touching me, when she touched actually touched me at all. "Yes," she whispered, in a voice that could make men go mad with desire, as she knelt by me. "The hero you should aim to become… and the enemy that you must defeat."_

 _I remember thinking that such a thing was impossible, because the king was so stunning and perfect. That's why I decided to serve under his wing. At that moment, I swore to become his sword, and eliminate all who dared to oppose him and his noble ideals._

 _I remember how I had been so happy when I was made a Knight of The Round Table. It had been a near unanimous decision, despite my mother's reputation. Going on great adventures with my fellow knights, each of whom I counted as a friend, and my king. So many adventures; The Fisher King, the War against my mother and King Lot, the questing Beast, the Green knight… So many happy memories._

 _I remember standing there, near the Table itself, as Gawain and Lancelot conferred with the king in whispers about how to deal with a baron who had declared himself in defiance of the king and had allied with the Saxons. An example had to be made. In my eagerness to prove my worth, I had volunteered. Sometimes, I wonder that, if I hadn't, how different things would have been._

 _With a battalion of knights, we attacked the traitorous Baron's castle. The battle had been short, and we emerged from it victorious._

 _I had cut down soldier after soldier and had cornered the Baron himself against the walls of the fortress. For some reason, though, I had felt curious. "Answer me," I had asked the traitor. "Why did you choose to betray our king?"_

 _To the man's credit, despite knowing of my reputation and power, he had answered. "Why? It is because Arthur Pendragon is far too perfect."_

 _That was his reason for causing this bloodshed? "You fool." I raised my sword high, as an executioner would the headman's axe._

 _Steel flashed, and blood stained the burning walls._

 _I had looked upon the Baron's headless corpse, his blood staining my armor. "You fool. Where is the sense in being dissatisfied with a perfect king?"_

 _That's right. The king was selfless. He only took what was necessary. Nothing extra remains. The king had no dreams… but he did not need them._

 _I remember how, despite myself, I still found that I could not shake from my mind the Baron's final words, and I would ruminate upon them until I grew almost sick with confusion. It was during one such moment that my mother came to me._

 _"Mordred! Tell me, just how long do you intend to continue this childish game of playing knight?"_

 _"Mother?"_

 _"You are heir to the throne! So, stop living in your father's shadow! You are his child, his living essence! Go, and claim your rightful place as his heir!"_

 _I should have not listened to her, and ignored her words, but, instead, like the child I still was, I became entranced by what she was telling me. "W-what? You're saying that King Arthur… that the King of Knights is my father?"_

 _I had been so happy, so overjoyed, that I had to tell him right away! He and the queen had yet to birth and heir, so, would this not make him happy? Would he not be pleased to know that his son was one of his knights? Besides, he and the queen had yet to issue an heir. Would he not be happy in knowing that his bloodline was still secure?_

 _How naïve I had been… how foolish._

 _I remember how, later that day, as the sun had begun its descent into the East, I had told him this news. But, his face held no joy at my announcement. Nor did it hold disbelief, or sorrow, or anger. The king's face had been as impassive as a mountain, and his emerald eyes, like mine, had been as two chips of ice._

 _Then, in clear voice, he had told me that I would not be acknowledged, not by him, or anyone else, as his blood._

 _That had shocked me to my core. "You… you refuse to acknowledge me as your son?! Is that really your answer, oh King of Knights?!"_

 _Without a word, he had turned away. I was always looking upon his back. Once, the sight of it had filled me with contentment._

 _But now… now I had felt only rage! "I… I was content to remain in your shadow. But, in all that time, never, not even once, did you ever deign to turn around and look at me, to look me in my eyes, eyes so very much like your own! Why?! Why won't you acknowledge me, Arthur?!"_

 _I remember clenching my fists so tightly that, even though they were covered by thick cloves, they had begun to bleed. "So be it then! I am going to destroy everything that you have built! Do you hear me? I will tear down all that you have created with my own hands! Arthur!"_

 _I remember how, soon afterwards, things just… fell apart. Tristian's and Kay's departures… Galahad's death… Merlin's disappearance… Lancelot's torrid affair with the Queen, and their flight to France, during which the Knight of the Lake had slain Gaheris and Gareth and Agravain, my own siblings… and then the King's ill-fated expedition to Rome, during which, with half of the Round table behind me, I made my claim for the throne! To my sorrow, my elder, and last, sibling, Gawain, had chosen to stand beside Arthur. I had no family left to stand beside me in my righteous rebellion. None, for my conniving mother had already departed from England following Merlin's vanishing, and the theft of Excalibur's sheath, Avalon._

 _I remember how I tore apart that shining Kingdom upon a Hill, brick by brick it seemed. I remember how I watched it burn, and I laughed and cried among the ashes, with Clarent in hand. I was the only heir to the throne! Only I could be king! None else!_

 _I remember how, at Camlann, the bodies of dead knights piled on each other, like gruesome hills of blood and flesh. Knights who had once fought and lived side by side as comrades now struggled to kill one another on this battlefield._

 _I remember how, like a scythe separating the chaff from the wheat, Clarent cleaved a bloody path through all the loyalist bastards who dared stand in my way, though the worst part was that I remembered every single one of them, remembered laughing and drinking with them. Now, they could do naught but fall before me, in service to a king who just did not care. "Where?" I cried out, as I cut down another man, Sir Leon, I believed his name to be. I remembered dining at his home with his family once. "Where is King Arthur?! Show yourself to me, King of Knights!"_

 _Suddenly, a familiar face was before me, blocking my sword with an equally familiar one… Gawain!_

 _I remember how I had pleaded with my last remaining sibling to stand aside, that he did not have to die for a king who had never once cared._

 _I remember how he had spat in my face, damning me to hell, and, though, he put a great fight, his previous wounds that he had suffered from Arondight still made it easy enough for me to dispatch him with a lucky stab._

 _I remembered cradling my dying brother in my arms, even as he at first cursed and spat blood upon me, but then began to weep, praying to God that, in another life, he would be given a second chance, and I remember how, right before the end, he did not look up at me with any anger, only sorrow._

 _I remember still cradling my elder brother's corpse long after his last breath had passed from his lips, and how tears were streaming down my face. But, as I was still wearing my helmet, I could not wipe them away._

 _As the sun set, our armies kept fighting, and soldiers and knights kept dying. I remember starting to feel so weary in that moment, even with the enhancements placed upon me by my mother._

 _I remember calmly setting down Gawain, arranging his body in a modicum of dignity, and closing his eyes, before wading back into the fray, his blood still taning my arms and armor. At some point, his name, and the name of my other siblings echoed like a battle cry from my lips. Their deaths were the fault of the king! Him, and his damned inhumanity, and his unsmiling face!_

 _I remember wondering how much longer could I keep this this up? Where was the King of Knights?!_

 _I remember how, as I paused to take a breath, I looked over Camlann… So many dead… bodies stacked like piles of cordwood… but it was his fault! Not mine!_

 _Then, I saw him, the King. At first, he looked fresh, and still mighty, with Excalibur in hand, and the setting sun wreathing him like an angel's halo… but then, I saw that this was not the case. One of his eyes was scarred shut from a lucky sword strike, blood seemed to drip from almost a dozen wounds to pool at his feet, he seemed to be favoring one of his legs, and he was breathing heavily, like me. For some reason, I could not help but note how that scar made him look similar to his adoptive brother, Kay._

 _Despite all that, however, the King still seemed to stand firm and tall, and he still had that same damned, impassive look on his face as he looked at me, like a magistrate, about to render judgment._

 _How dare he! How dare he look at me like that!_

 _I looked him straight in his one remaining eye, opened wide my arms, and laughed. I could not help myself, but, by God, I laughed. "Hahaha! How's this? Do you see, King Arthur? No matter what happens, here is where your great kingdom will end! Look upon it, and see my revenge, my vengeance for not relinquishing your crown and throne to me! Look at what your folly has cost!"_

 _His only response was to take his mighty sword in both hands._

 _"Do you hate me,_ father _?! Do you detest me from the bottom of your cold heart that much?! Does my existence truly offend you that much?!"_

 _He had remained silent. Why was I not attacking him? "Is it because I am the child of an evil witch, your own sister, and thus the product of incest?"_

 _Even amidst the clamor of battle, the king's silence had been deafening to my ears. With my rage growing ever deeper, I took up Clarent in both hands, and rushed up the hill towards him. "Answer me, King Arthur!"_

 _Even when I had still served him loyally, we had never actually cross swords, not even in the sparring yard. But, I had seen how great a swordsman the King was, when we had fought side by side._

 _I do not know what I had been expecting when Clarent had clashed against Excalibur's shining blade. I certainly had not expected the Sword of Promised Victory to go flying out of the King's hands at my blow. How long had he been fighting? How tired had he been, at that moment?_

 _In shock, we both had flown back, while Excalibur landed some distance away._

 _As we both panted from exhaustion and shock, the king had straightened his back, and looked me dead in the eye. Then, to my shock, for what seemed like the first time in my entire life, though it was not true, of course, the King of Knights spoke directly to me. "No, Mordred. Never, not even once in my life, have I ever hated you, or ever considered you to be repugnant."_

 _As he spoke, he had reached next to him, and withdrew from the ground his holy lance, Rhongomyniad, and pointed its spiral tip directly at my heart. "Do you want to know the reason that I did not relinquish my crown and throne to you?"_

 _Despite keeping my guard, I had never seen a human being, even one like him, move so fast! The next think I knew, the holy spear had been buried deep in my chest._

 _The pain! So much pain! Why did it hurt so much?_

 _The king's face was still as immovable as stone, though he had just killed me, his only child, his flesh and blood, and he gazed upon me with his one good eye. "It was because you did not once have the capacity to be king."_

 _Without another word, he shoved the lance in deeper, and my armor fell to pieces._

 _I remember how, more through muscle memory than anything else, I had still managed to rake and slash Clarent's edge down across the King's right side, cutting through his enchanted armor like wet paper._

 _As I slid off the holy lance, and lay upon the ground, I watched as the King still stood tall, against the dying of the light, as night spread its wings upon this battlefield, even as blood dripped from his unsmiling mouth and wounds. As he had killed me, so had I just killed him._

 _I remember, as he once again turned his back on me, like he had always done, and how, as my vision grew cloudy with darkness, I had reached out a shaking hand. Could he not even spare a single glance for his own child?_

 _Wait, why was he holding his face?_

 _Why was it getting so cold?_

 _"F…father…"_

 _…I remember…_

* * *

 _Motel, Sighisoara, morning_

With a strangled gasp, and sweat drenching his head, Kairi woke up. Slowly, and with a groan, he sat up on the room's couch, upon which he had fallen asleep the night before. At Saber's incessant whining, he had relented and, after leaving Bucharrest, had booked the two of them a room at a cheap motel in Sighisoara.

With another groan, he swung his legs over the edge of the couch and rubbed his head. "Man, what's up with the weird dreams?"

Saber, who was already up, sitting on the room's sole bed, and playing with a cat that she had found… somewhere, looked up at his question, and cave him a look. "Hmm? What was that?"

Kairi waved her inquiry off. "Don't worry about it."

With a shrug, she resumed her playing with the cat. "So, let me get this straight; as soon as you find yourself sleeping in a normal place that's not creepy, you start having bad dreams?"

She then gave him an aside glance. "Seriously, you necromancers are a stranger bunch then I thought."

In lieu of a response, Kairi simply stared at his servant, the dream… no, the _memory_ from the previous night still fresh in his mind.

He must have been staring for too long, because she gave him a question look. "Okay, seriously Master, what's your problem?"

With a sigh, he shook his head. "It's nothing." _… I remember…_

Then, with a final groan, the necromancer stood up and stretched. "C'mon, let's go get something to eat."

Twenty minutes later, the two found themselves in a small café, feasting on large helpings of scrambled eggs, toast, fried potatoes, bacon, cheese, assorted vegatbles, and coffee. Of course, most of this quickly found its way into Saber's stomach, which, As Kairi had discovered to his wallet's despair, seemed near bottomless.

As they ate, nearby, a tramp could be seen and heard playing a violin, the instrument's melodies filling the air.

While the Knight of Rebellion continued to gorge herself, Kairi busied himself with reading the local newspaper (he actually knew a good number of languages, thank you very much) and listening to an international radio news station. The news was… disquieting to say the least.

 _"_ We have the latest newson the mysterious serial killings that have been happening recently," the newscaster said, in English. "According to this police statement, the suspected area continues to expand with each new casualty. The first victim was found in Bucharest…"

As the reporter droned on, Kairi examined the paper, which was also covering the same story. "A serial killer case, huh?" Interesting.

Suddenly, his flip-phone began to ring. He answered it. "Hello?"

"Mr. Sisigou?"

He recognized that voice. "Mr. Belfaban? Why are you calling? I thought my contact was supposed to be Lord El-Melloi?"

"Yes, well, it would seem that Lord El-Melloi had suddenly decided to take a leave of absence soon after you departed for Bucharest. In the meantime, I will be your point of contact. Will that be a problem?"

From his tone, Kairi could tell that the old man was still a bit miffed about the juvenile hydra. "Nope, not at all, sir. So, care to tell me why you called, because I don't think it was just to check up on me and my progress."

"Astutue as always, Sisigou. As such, I will get straight to the point. Should I assume that you are already aware of the serial killings going on in Bucharest?"

"Yeah, kind of."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kairi watched as Saber…. chased a cat around on all fours in a circle, and then hissed at it, before repeating the strange scene.

"Then you should be made aware that all the victims were members of the Magus Association."

"Are you serious?"

"Sadly, yes. Every one of the magi that the Association had stationed in Sighisoara had been brutally murdered, and their souls devourered. From what we have been able to deduce, it would appear to be the work of a Servant."

"Yeah. Strange that it would be happening here, and not in Trifas. So, a Servant, huh?"

"Indeed. Despite their legends and powers, a Servant is still, in essence, a glorified familiar, though the amount of prana that hey require to stay in this world is rather substantial compared to an ordinary spirit."

"Yeah. So, what about that priest? Have you heard anything from him about all of this?"

"Yes. Kotomine gathered all the Servants of Red for questioning, but not a single one has admitted being the one responsible for these reprehensible attacks."

"Hmm, and it would be strange for Yggdmillennia to be doing this in their own territory. You think that a third party might be involved in this, old man?"

At that moment, the radio reporter spoke up again. "As of today, there have been at least ten victims in this case. In response, local police have put out a widespread alert so as to commence further investigation."

"I highly doubt it," Belfaban said in a dismissive tone. "But, regardless, these actions are in direct and gross violation of the laws and policies that the Association strives to uphold, so as to keep the Moonlit World unseen. Do you understand?"

In other words, since we are still paying you, and you are already there, you have to be the one to do something about it.

Kairi considered his words for a moment, and then sighed. Looked like he would be playing detective for a bit. "Got it. Guess this means that I better get to work then."

Time to hunt down a serial killer. Joy.

* * *

Meanwhile, as the Saber and her Necromancer Master left the cafe, the tramp kept coaxing out melodies from his violin, garnering some spare change from passerby, who were then rewarded with a nod of gratitude.

Despite looking like a once talented musician who had fallen on hard times and cheap alcohol a great while back, the musician's sharp eyes hinted at a much deeper intelligence than his shabby, worn, and raggedy appearance suggested to the world.

Things were beginning to get interesting, it would seem.

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

To say that Caules was feeling ill at ease was like to observe that the sky was blue, or that coal was black.

Ever since he had sent that message, an actual act of treachery, the boy had felt as if he were shackled to a tightrope and allowed only to walk forward.

As such, he had taken to avoiding his family, the homunculi, and the Servants whenever he could, save for Fiore and Asterios.

Most of the time, he was in his room, corresponding with his blackmailer. He told the mysterious "author" all he knew; the Servant's identities, battle plans, all of it.

In return, for some reason, the blackmailer released to him strange tidbits about the Red Faction. To Caules, that made that whole thing even worse, as he could not just go to Darnic or Lancer with this information, lest that they ask how he had come by it, and, more than likely, he would then be handed over to Aunt Celenike.

In his increasingly paranoid mind, Caules was wondering if that was the only reason why his blackmailer was giving him those pieces of information.

Though, he kept turning over in his mind the first "reward" he had been given.

" _Yer side's Assassin… well let's just say in regard to her and her NEW master, shit's gone off the rails. Do with that as you will! Bye!"_

So, here he was, sitting at his computer, having gotten very little sleep, just waiting for more messages.

Suddenly, he could not take it anymore.

He logged on to the blog.

 _"What do you know about our Assassin going off the rails?"_ Sent.

Ten minutes later, he got a response. Reply. " _Awesome. Showing some initiative in our little friendship, huh bro? That there's a quality protagonist move right there, let me tell ya!_

 _"As for yer question… let me tell ya a little story… Group Tweedle-dee and Group Tweedledum don't like the other. In fact, they hate each other's freaking guts! Let's say it's been especially bad the last eighty years or so. Of course, like any two groups fightin' each other, they both have little tweedle-minions stationed in the town where a vampire-who-was-not-a-vampire once lived in exile around where they are fighting, keepin' an eye on the other, all while only really fightin' in moonlit nights, ya feel me bro?_

 _"So, then, a few months ago, each side has decided to have seven little dwarves fight for them, and of course, each little dwarf is unique, with special powers, and so has a mommy looking after each one. Unfortunately for Group Tweedledum, one of their dwarves is kind of psycho, so let's call her "Stabby." Especially so, since this dwarf just got a new mommy, who seems to be a piece of work herself. Now, new mommy has no real idea about all the rules, and, even if she did, she probably wouldn't give a crap. Of course, since Stabby has special dietary needs, that means new mommy can't feed her, and so they go out, hunting for the special ingredients. Of course, since each of the tweedle-minions from the groups keeping watch in the town where the vampire-who-was-not-a-vampire lived in exile are the only ones with the special ingredients, Stabby and new mommy went and gave each of the ones from Group Tweedle-Dee a nice big hug. Even if they did not have the special ingredients, new mommy and Stabby still like to go out at night!"_

 _"Also, as an aside, Stabby's knives and special powers are great for cutting up girls when it gets misty at night, even girls with wheels for legs. It might even make new mommy laugh!"_

 _"Ya catching my drift, yet bro?"_

Caules felt the blood drain from his face with each part of the "story" that he read.

This was bad, this was really bad.

Oh no, Fiore! Darnic had dispatched Fiore and Archer to Sighisoara to track down the Servant responsible for the murders. If it was Assassin of Black… Jack the Ripper…

The moment that thought crossed his mind, he got another message.

 _"So, what are ya gonna do, Mr. Protagonist?"_

* * *

 _Unknown_

At the meeting table of their base, El-Melloi II, Rider, Archer, the two sisters, Flat, the knightly man with the cane, the priest, the priest's servant, and a few others, including Caster and a girl with a hood, gathered to discuss the situation.

"This really has the makings of a shit-fest," El-Melloi II stated plainly. "Ten dead, and their souls devoured."

"Never liked assassins myself," Rider grumbled. "Sneaky bastards. No offence though," he was quick to add, nodding to one of the others. The black-haired girl said nothing, and just stared at him for a moment, before being softly chided at by her master.

The Archer sipped from his wine glass. "Are we sure that the forger's information on this is entirely accurate? He is not one really known for honesty?"

The man to whom he was referring, their Caster, simply chuckled. "Wow, yer mean words really hit me where it hurts, bro! Also, fer the record, I ain't a forger. Yer not talkin to Elmyr de Hory, after all. At best, I'm a thief! But, if ya want to call me something, then how about "sex god," since yer talkin' to the man who can make 10,000 babies come poppin out the who-ha's of a thousand women, after all!"

This statement caused everyone in the room, even the Archer, to groan, except for the laughing Rider who, for some reason had taken a strong liking to the crass Servant of the Spell.

Caster's master, the knightly man, stroked his grey beard, and then cleared his throat. "So, what is to be done, Lord El-Melloi II?"

El-Melloi II looked at the old soldier for a moment, and then shrugged. "Right now, our best bet is to send Berserker, as strange as I find that statement to be. They can keep an eye on things. As of yet, we still can't fully risk revealing our existence, so, unless you think it absolutely essential: Do. Not. Get. Involved. Do you understand?"

Everyone nodded.

The hooded girl's servant, who had been silent the entire time, then raised his head, and asked a single question. "What about Saber of Red?"

There seemed to be no emotion behind the words. It was simply him desiring information. Of course, all present at the table could feel the history and invisible emotion behind the question.

El-Melloi II shrugged. "Like I said, unless we have to, we don't interfere, at least, not yet."

Caster, having no sense of social decorum, or, perhaps, just not caring, grinned a wide grin, a frightening thing which made it seem like he had soaked his teeth in a liquid made from melted checkerboards, and laughed. "What's wrong, Mr. Knight? Worried about yer family? Even after all the crap that went down between you two?"

The look that the Knight shot the boisterous man would have sent the devil himself fleeing in terror over a cliff. It only made the self-proclaimed "thief" and "sex god" laugh some more, and his knightly master sighed in embarrassment.

Then, the hooded girl put a hand on the Knight's arm, and he turned his gaze away from the chortling Servant of the Spell.

It was taking a great deal of effort on El-Melloi II's part to not bash his head against the table in absolute frustration, repeatedly.

The priest remained silent, for he was engrossed fully with his new phone.

El-Melloi then clapped his hands together. "Right, let's get to it. Berserker, you better head out when you are ready. Caster, you'll keep watch elsewheres?"

"Sure, sure. Hey, Rider bro! What say we find some nice company and play some video games?"

"Hahahaha! I like the way you think, Caster!"

As they all began to leave the table, Caster stood up to his full height, which roughly put him at eyelevel with Rider, then reached into his jacket, and pulled out a small slip of paper, which he promptly handed to El-Melloi II.

"What's this?"

"A message, bro."

"From who?"

"Not sure. Just read it. Ya might find it interesting."

With some curiosity, El-Melloi II opened the message. On it, in a neat cursive was a single sentence.

 _There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact._

* * *

 _Sighisoara, sunset_

As evening fell, Kairi walked through the city park to find Saber seated at one of the benches, stuffing her face with what seemed to be papanasi, a local delicacy that were basically cheese donuts. Hadn't they just had dinner half an hour ago? Was there a black hole where her stomach was meant to be?

He approached her, and saw the frown on her face, which in turn made him chuckle. "Well, someone's in a bad mood. What's wrong?"

She paused in her gorging on the pastries. "What's wrong is that I was hoping we could go sight-seeing, do something fun! But this boring town has no high-rises, no amusement parks, and instead, there is absolutely nothing, except for boring architecture!"

She then gestured about wildly with her free hand. "Look around, Master. Are you absolutely sure that it's been more than a thousand years since my time, because from where I'm sitting, it sure doesn't look like it!"

Kairi shrugged in response. "Well, from what I know, this town ins quite well known for preserving its architecture from the middle ages."

He then took a closer look at the bag of papanasi. Hadn't it been full a few minutes ago? "Geez, you sure eat a lot. Where does it all go?"

In response, he got a glare for his troubles. "For your information, eating just happens to be a hobby of mine, okay? It also happens to help keep me in shape."

Following that declaration, she shoved her last papansi into her mouth, crushed the paper bag in her hands, and then looked him square in the eye. "However, a hobby is still just a hobby. It's not going to help to keep me calm when there's still fighting to be done."

Kairi took a seat next to her. "Well, you can rest easy then, 'casue I've got some good news for ya."

"Oh? Do tell."

"I went to examine the corpses, with a little friendly "persuasion," of course. Based off of their wounds, it was very likely that some of them had tried to fight back. But, for the most part, they had been copped into pieces with their hearts gouged out." Even with all he had seen, it had still sent a chill down his spine.

"It was a very gruesome sight."

Saber swallowed her food. "Why the heart?"

"It's quite simple. For servants, like you, the heart is the location of your spirit core, that which keeps you tethered to this world as long you're supplied with prana. For humans, the heart is the source of life. So, if I had to take a guess, the serial killer ate them to gain energy."

"Geez. That is just disgusting."

A grin then alit across her face. "So, anyway, what do you think? Was it a servant?"

"Yeah. There's no doubt about it. Initially, all the victims in Bucharest were nothing but thugs and gangbangers. But, ever since the association was deployed…" he then stood up with a dark chuckle. "All the victims have ben mages."

At that statement, an understanding look came into Saber's green eyes, along with a smirk. "So, if that's the case, then that means, since there's one mage still here, the chances of that mage being the target of the next attack are pretty freaking high!"

Kairi answered her observation with a smirk of his own. "Rumors of a serial killer have spread throughout the town. No one is even going to think about going out at night, which means that we will have a safe battlefield."

Kairi then began to walk away from the bench. "Come on Saber, it's time for you to gird yourself in steel, and get ready for battle."

At that, Saber stood up with a grin. Every day, he found himself liking this master of his more and more. "Right!"

He then slammed his right fist against his left palm and, in a flash of red light, had adorned himself in his armor, sand helmet. "Let's take these bastards down, Master!"

Time to hunt a serial killer!

* * *

 _Sighisoara, evening_

Reika pushed open the dark curtains and looked out the window at the cobblestone street. The house she and Jack were staying in was very beautiful. It had a somewhat rustic sense to it, which was a rare thing to find in a city-based house, and the interior was very tastefully decorated.

Luckily, who ever owned it seemed to have gone on vacation. She would have almost felt bad about killing them if they had been here when she and Jack had found the house.

Almost, but not really.

She observed that night was starting to fall, and then she turned to look at Jack, still in the cute white sundress she had picked out for her back in Bucharest. "So, Jacky, are you ready to move to the next town soon, sweetheart?"

Jack, who was leaning against one of the walls of the bedroom with her hands clasped behind her back, tilted herself sideways. "Not yet, mommy. We can feel that another mage just showed up here."

Really? Well then, if that's the case, then would you like that to be your final meal here?"

Jack nodded happily. "Mm-hm! Oh yes, please!"

Then, her face grew somber for a moment. "But, mommy, you can't come and watch me this time. There's a servant out there with the mage as well."

Such a kind and thoughtful girl Jacky was, wanting to make sure her mommy was safe. "Alright then, how about, while I wait, I'll make us some homburg steaks for when you get beck, so we can have a nice dinner. You'll be hungry after killing, you know."

Assassin of Black giggled. "Thanks mommy, that sounds yummy!"

"Of course, and remember…"

"We remember. 'Cut them up if we like, but make sure not to slit their throats so that they can still scream.'"

With that, Jack opened the window, and leapt out into the night, her clothes shifting into her Servant attire.

* * *

 _Unknown, Sun set_

Like the Christian bible that her master seemed so fond of, Semiramis looked upon her works, and thought it good.

"Behold, Master, my nostalgic Garden."

She turned to look at him, and spread forth her arms, like an innkeeper welcoming in weary travelers from the cold and gave Shirou an excited smile. "These are the Hanging Gardens of Babylon."

Her smile then deepened. "Now then, what do you think?"

Shirou looked about and smiled. "It is indeed quite marvelous, Semiramis. Of course, I assume that you add in all my requests as well?"

It was nice to know that he was pleased. "Of course, master. I would be most remiss in my duties if I hadn't."

She turned back to gaze once more upon her Noble Phantasm. "When they finally look upon my beautiful gardens, the Back Faction and their Servants will be fairly shaking in their boots!" At that thought, she chuckled, a pretty thing full of poison and spite.

"Excellent work," Shirou said. "Despite the fact that Berserker of Red is no longer with us, the element of surprise is still on our side, considering the fact that their Assassin has gone rouge. Luckily, our Saber and her master have already gone on the offensive in ."

"Indeed, it will be quite a fierce battle. As such…"

With a grand flare, The Ancient Empress of Assyria spread her arms out wide once more. "I expect there to be a most spectacular opening!"

Shirou smiled once more, and then set his gold eyes upon her. "Ver well. I believe that it is now time to leave and claim the Greater Grail, thus putting this tragedy at an end."

Truly, he was a strange and inspiring man, her Master.

"Gosh, Mr. Fake priest! What's so bad about tragedies?" "Si, si! My last meal really enjoyed talking about them, and it's just so fun when everyone dies in horrible misery and agony at the end of a story!"

Of course, the moment had to be ruined by those two little monsters…

* * *

 _Sighisoara, Night_

Kairi took a drag from his cigarette, and then groaned. This… this had to be handled with delicacy and finesse.

Crap.

The police office, luckily, had not drawn his pistol yet. Kairi had to admire the young man's self-control; if he were an average police officer, and he were suddenly confronted by the sight of a burly biker-looking guy with three large scars running down his face, and a person covered from head to toe in knight armor, then he probably would have already started shooting.

"Ce ... ce? Cine dracu ești tu? Este armura asta?" the young officer asked, in his native tounge.

Right. Time to nip this in the bud. Taking another drag of his cigarette, Kairi took the cancer-stick out of his mouth and used the smoldering tip to quickly trace a rune of suggestion in the air. In the next moment, the officer's mind had become extremely suggestible to whatever Kairi said. "We're here on behalf of the public safety division," the necromancer said in perfect Romanian. "Please, leave this area to us."

With a sleepy, look in his eyes, the hypnotized officer agreed, turned around, and left. As he did, Kairi rubbed his head in frustration. "Damn it, if we don't take care of this thing soon, it's going to get pretty difficult to keep it under wraps."

Then, something seemed to catch Saber's eye, and she began to scan the area around them. "Hey," she said, as Clarent materialized into her waiting hand. "Something's wrong!"

Around them, fog began to quickly appear, almost as if it had been summoned. "Yeah, this fog. This…" Suddenly, it was becoming very hard to breath.

The necromancer then collapsed to his knees, as a coughing fit over came him, and he tried in vain to cover his mouth, first with his hand, and then with his jacket.

"Master?!"

"The fog! *cough* It's poison! Don't breathe it in!"

"It doesn't affect me! Hang on!"

Swiftly, Saber put her arm under Kairi's shoulder, and lifted him to his feet."

"Thanks. *cough* Let's get out of here!"

Pulling him along, Saber began to speed away, hopefully to another part othe town where the fog had not reached.

They ran for what seemed like hours, and the fog seemed to be everywhere. It was getting harder to breathe.

"This way!" Saber declared, no doubt relying on her Instinct skill to help.

After a bit more running, they managed to reach a clearing that was free of fog.

As Kairi began to gulp down fresh, clean air into his abused lungs, Saber scanned the area. "All right, we're out."

Once he had regained his bearings, Kairi straightened himself up. "Okay… from now on…"

Suddenly, Saber turned and kicked his feet out from under him, and then slashed upwards with her sword!

A moment later, Kairi saw why.

As the knife landed on the ground, Saber and he studied the Servant who had nearly ended Kairi's life. It was a girl, little more than a child, who seemed dressed in clothes that appeared to be equal parts leather, bandages, buckles, and rags, along with a ratty black cloak.

"Unfortunately for you," Saber told the killer, as her knife fell to the ground with a clang, "this guy is my master, so you're not going anywhere near him."

The Assassin ignored him and appeared to be more concerned with the cut that now lacerated her arm. "Hey," she said, her voice high-pitched, like a normal child's. "You cut us. That was a really cruel thing to do."

Saber grunted at that and pointed her sword at the serial killer. "You think that's cruel?! I don't want to hear that sort of accusation from the lips of a monster who goes around eating people's souls!"

The smirk on the Servant's face was something that should never be seen on a child. "Why? There's nothing wrong with that, _right?_ "

In the next moment, the diminutive servant sent several sharp-looking knives flying towards him!

Saber blocked them all with only one hand.

With a giggle that Kairi was sure would haunt his nightmares for a long time to come, the Assassin leapt back, and vanished into the mist.

"Stay here, Master! I'll take care of this!" At that, Saber charged into the mist after the rogue servant.

No arguments from him on that front! "It's all yours, Saber!"

He then reached into one of his jacket pockets, withdrew a severed monkey's paw, and then set the gruesome object on the ground. Then, the necromancer spoke to it. "Barrier to keep people away, appear."

Like a macabre spider, the furry appendage lurched to "life" amidst the crackling of its joints, and crawled across the ground, leaving behind a glowing line as it did.

* * *

As a bull stampeded through a flimsy wooden fence, so did Saber charge through the choking fog.

Despite the horror of the situation, Mordred could not help but feel invigorated! When was the last time that he had hunted down a monster, an honest-to god evil doer?!

Another knife flashed out of the mist, which he deflected. Was this all the monster masquerading as a child could do, throw knives?

Then seemingly from all around him, Mordred heard the killer's voice. "Oh wow! You're pretty good!"

Now it was complimenting him? "Tch! Say what you will, foul Assassin! You do not deserve the title of "heroic spirit!" You aren't even fit to lick the dirt off the boots of an anti-hero! All you are is just a cowardly, pathetic serial killer!"

"Oh?" the voice replied, confused. "How did you know?"

Then, the voice came again. "Our true name is Jack the Ripper."

Shit! It was on him! Quickly, Mordred threw it off, and the Demon of Whitechapel landed on all fours in front of him.

Even from the throne of heroes, Mordred had heard of Jack the Ripper, the serial Killer who had terrorized London.

This was the serial killer? A little girl? "You were Jack the Ripper?"

The demon-in-human-flesh simply grinned. "Now it's your turn, Mr. Knight. Will you tell me what your name is too?"

Saber's only response was the slash down upon the killer. Almost effortlessly, it dodged, and flipped and balanced onto his armored shoulder like an acrobat. Then it… wait, was it sniffing him?!

In shock and disgust, Mordred tried to batter the thing off with Clarent, only for it to push off and fade in to the mist with a giggle. "Heheheheh! Yes! We knew it! You're a woman, aren't you?!

What? Did this _thing_ just call him a woman?! It kept giggling. "In that case… yep! Why don't we do _that?"_

With an angry smirk, Mordred shifted his helmet into his armor, as a torrent of red lighting began to creep up around, and pool around Clarent's tarnished blade. "Don't underestimate me, you damn monster brat!"

As the red lighting began to make his sword hum with power, Mordred lifted it high in the air, like a god of war, with the sword's point aimed straight at the sky. "Red Thunder!" At his cry, more red lighting shot down from the heavens, and up from his sword, making the mist of Jack the Ripper dissipate, revealing to Saber the now very confused Jack's location.

With a grin of triumph, Saber point Clarent's tip straight at Jack the Ripper's heart as the lighting dissipated along with the mist. "Your time is up, Assassin. Feel free to whine and weep to your heart's content, because without your murdering head, you won't be able to do either of those things anymore!"

To Saber's increasing disgust, the Assassin only laughed at this grand declaration, before it drew her daggers and rushed him head on. "Heheheh! Oh, come on, Ms. Knight! We're still just so hungry!"

Mordred answered the little pissant's charge with his own, Clarent already singing for blood and justice. "Just for that, I'm sending you straight to hell, Assassin!"

Closer and closer they came, their weapons ready to clash!

But it was not meant to be.

Mordred felt, rather than heard, the arrow soaring straight towards them. With only a split second, he arrested his speed, and leapt back as quickly and as far as he could.

The arrow impacted the cobblestones between him and Jack in a furious explosion, tearing up the street in a great cacophony of dust and fire and sound.

* * *

From atop the roof of the bell tower, Chiron watched as the smoke and flames and debris shot straight up from his missile's impact.

Ordinarily, a centaur would have found it rather difficult to climb the stairs of a bell tower, let alone a rooftop, but, thankfully, there were quite a few benefits to astral form, as well as a few mystic codes that Caster had designed, along with some light armoring for his horse boy, and his upper torso.

"Did you succeed," Fiore asked him.

With his Clairvoyance active, Chiron could see clearly through the smoke the results of his attack. "No, I did not. It seems that Saber was able to dodge it. That one is truly a credit to the strongest class." He watched as Saber waved away the smoke, no doubt wondering where his arrow had come from.

"And Assassin?"

He saw that Assassin had not emerged unscathed from the explosion, and that she promptly vanished into astral form. "Assassin has managed to avoid death as well. Though, considering that she has just retreated, it seems as though I wounded her."

He then saw Saber's Master hesitantly approaching the battlefield. "Saber's Master is now in the vicinity."

"Good, then I will go after Kairi Sisigou as per the plan. Can you handle Saber?"

"Of course."

He watched as Saber of Red traced the arrow's path to the bell tower.

With a growl of anger, the Armored Servant headed straight towards the Servant of the Bow's apparent position.

He fired another shaft, which, since she knew it was coming this time, the Saber managed to deflect. "Please, Master," he said as he fired another arrow. "Try not to push yourself too hard."

"Don't worry, I won't." At that, her mystic code unfurled itself, and sent her leaping off the roof towards the street below, and towards the location of Saber of Red's master.

* * *

"Don't worry Master! I'll take care of the enemy Servant," Saber yelled, as she sped on past Kairi.

Fine by him. "Got it! Then leave the Master to me!"

"Understood!"

* * *

As he sped towards the clocktower, Saber briefly wondered at the fact that he was trusting a magus, more specifically a necromancer, in a situation like this.

Shaking the though from his head, Moredred reached the tower and stared running up the outer wall.

As he did, he saw Archer of black let loose more missiles straight at him. Not one managed to arrest Mordred's speed, and, in the blink of an eye, he had his first look at Archer of Black as he landed on the roof.

To the knight's surprise, the Archer… was a centaur? For most people, this would have been a huge clue as to the Servant's identity, but Mordred was not most people. His mother had only raised him for one purpose, and that had not included learning about Greek mythology.

No matter who he was though, he would fall before the might of Mordred!

The Saber slid down the roof towards him, Clarent at the ready to carve up some horsemeat. "You're mine, Archer!"

To his credit, the horse-man managed to deflect the blade with his bow and then… jump off the roof?

As Mordred rushed to the roof's edge, Archer gave him a farewll gift in the form of more arrows.

No matter, he could just reflect them agai… AGH!

One of the arrows managed to find its way through an opening, embedding itself into his arm! "Bastard!"

Damn! That really hurt! Luckily, his other hand was still available. Leaving the shaft in, Mordred growled, and, in a burst of Red Thunder, _exploded_ off of the roof, and down towards the descending Archer!

* * *

As Chiron watched the enraged Saber fall towards him, he considered his limited options. Even with Caster's armaments, there was still a good chance he would not come out of this unscathed.

Pushing off of the wall as he fell, Chiron flipped, landed, and slid backwards onto the cobblestones, his hooves kicking up some sparks as he readied himself, his arms up in a pankration stance.

More red lighting gathered about the Saber of Red. "I'll send you straight to hell!" He heard her scream, her sword held tight in both hands.

In a flash, she almost right on top of him. In that split second, he reared up on his hind legs into her blow, grabbed her right wrist, letting her sword carve a deep gash into his shoulder as he did so, and then slammed his open palm into her armored gut with all the might he could muster. Before twisting and throwing her straight over his shoulder and away from him, and all in the space of less than three seconds!

The blood she coughed up while flat on her back meant that he had managed to at least bruise a lung.

With a ready smile, even as blood dripped from his shoulder, Chiron quickly repositioned himself, and prepared for the next bout.

"That was pankration," he explained, the teacher in him being unbale to resist. How many lessons did he impart to his other students while beating them black and blue, after all? "A Greek fighting style."

In response to that bit of wisdom, Saber rolled onto all fours, and gave him a bloodthirsty smirk

* * *

Again, Kairi was more than happy to leave Archer of Black, for it could be no one else, to Saber. Of course, he was not sure how much more of this he could take. Poisonous fog, and then almost getting his head chopped off by a kid who had been Jack the Ripper! Man, this night was really getting out of hand. As such, he lit a cigarette, and let the first lungful of nicotine try to calm his nerves.

Of course, then, at that moment, the universe decided that it needed to shove another large and obscene gesture in Kairi's face.

He heard the whirring of machinery and gears and watched in wary fascination as a young girl with twisted legs and long brown hair was pulled into view by the four very large and long metallic limbs coming out of her back that kept her suspended off the ground, and between two buildings.

The sight actually reminded him a bit of one of the super villains from the comic books he used to read as a kid.

The smile on the girl's face would have been a kind thing in any other circumstance, but here, it was a clear declaration; _surrender and run, or fight and die._

Trying to act as nonchalant as possible, Kairi flicked away his spent cancer stick, and gave a cocky grin. "Right. So, I'm assuming that we can skip the introductions, right?"

"Fine by me," she replied. "It's unlikely that we don't already know each other's names." Her smile than grew until her eyes closed. "However, you don't mind if I give you a warning first, do you?"

It was if they were two old friends discussing the weather, which to Kairi's mind, made it a bit more frightening.

He smirked. "Sure, why not?" No sense in not being polite about it, right?

The smile then dropped off the girl's face. "Very well. I suggest that you leave now! You have no right to be here. This town rests under the domain of Yggdmillennia's rule. If you and your servant were to leave now, then I will overlook your trespass. However, if you decide to ignore this generous warning, then I can only hope that you are prepared to atone for your insolence with your life!"

He could not help himself, but Kairi actually chuckled. Got to admire her guts, this kid. "Nice speech, but you don't expect me to actually listen to you, right?"

She smiled again. "But of course not, Mr. Necromacner. However, by making that sort of declaration, then I am easily able to strengthen and fortify my resolve to go through with your execution."

"Is that so?"

As they spoke, Kairi whispered a silent word under his breath. Then, from out of nowhere, a gust of wind picked up, and blew a loose poster from a wall across Fiore Yggmillennia's face.

It was only for a split second, but that was all he needed to send a blast of finger bullets barreling towards her from his gun!

Luckily for her, her mystic code, the machine on her back, was faster, and it dropped her well under the blast.

Unluckily, with these not being ordinary bullets, they changed direction mid-air and sped down after her. Oddly, she did not seem perturbed by this.

"Jupiter," she said. "Intercept!"

As she continued her descent, one of the mechanical arms, the lower right, swatted the bullets away like flies with a swatter.

Crap!

The moment she landed, she looked straight at him. "Now, Mars. Open fire."

Crap, crap crap!

As the upper right let loose a barrage of bullet-like energy, Kairi dashed and scrambled behind a nearby car for cover.

As the blast continued to slowly rock and tear apart the vehicle, Kairi fumbled for more ammunition.

"Damn it. That's just great! That Doc Ock arm thing really does it all, huh?!"

He then barely managed to scuttle left to right as more blasts peppered around his feet. Smart girl.

"So that's the Bronze-Link Manipulator, huh? Damn thing's a lot more annoying than the Clock Tower files described."

He then reached into his jacket and withdrew another heart grenade. "In that case…"

With his teeth, he withdrew the pin and set it beside him, as the mage circuits in his hand glowed a soft turquoise. "Now, oh wind…"

From his hand came a small gust of air, making the grenade roll right beside Friore Yggdmillennia.

At the last minute, she noticed the explosion, and a look of fear cross her face. "Saturn! Crush it."

The limb smashed the thing into a small puddle of blood, just in time!

Too bad for her, that had only been a distraction.

The next thing she knew, the car, with Kairi in the driver's seat, was barreling towards her!

Before she could reaction, the vehicle had hit her in the lower metal legs. 'How could someone be so reckless?!" she screamed, before landing, face first, flat against the window shield.

With a determined grimace, Kairi made the sharpest turn her could, so sharp it was a wonder that the steering wheel did not break of in his hands. The car spun a few times, and then Fiore was sent flying off, too fast for her metal limbs to get a grip, and so she was sent tumbling to the ground in a heap.

As she lifted her head, she was greeted with the sight of Kairi, leaning out the driver's window, with his loaded shotgun aimed right at her.

Shame, he kind of felt bad doing this. "End of the line, kid."

He pulled the trigger, and the enchanted finger bones raced towards her.

She could not dodge or block in time. He had won.

At least, that was what he thought, since, all of a sudden, a black thing in the vague shape of a dog suddenly jumped in front of her and intercepted the bullets with a small explosion.

"What?" Kairi then looked about.

Standing next to Fiore Ygddmillennia, panting as if he had just run a marathon, was a boy in his early to mid-teens with glasses, and dressed in a similar manner as her. His glowing hand was outstretched, which meant that he was the one who had summoned the spirit.

Yep, this night was definitely getting out of hand.

"Sister," the boy cried out. "Snap out of it!"

"R-right!" A moment later,a fresh barrage of energy blasts came sailing towards Kairi.

Luckily, he managed to crawl out the opposite door, and crouch behind it as it slowly became shredded by the bombardment.

The boy had called her 'sister.' If Kairi remembered correctly, then that meant that he was Caules Yggdmillennia.

Damn it! Having the pair of them here was really problematic! "Hey, boy!" he cried out. "What happened to a proper introduction? Come and fight me fair and square, like a true mage would!"

"Go screw yourself, you muscle-headed idiot! I'm not so insecure about myself that I have to go pounding my chest at everyone I see like a gorilla!"

Well since that didn't work, it seemed like he was going to have to use his trump card.

As his cover continued to be demolished, Kairi took out the bone dagger…

* * *

As Saber slowly got back to her feet, panting and groaning in pain, though the look in her eyes could kill, Chiron could not help but admire this angry knight.

It was remarkable. He tried to corner her, and yet, he was the one who ended up cornered instead. Even with his centaur form and Caster's armament's, it was more than likely that he would not be able to win at this rate. How extraordinary.

 _'Fiore,'_ he 'said,' through their link. _'I apologize. I have failed, and now we are at a great disadvantage. As such, I think it would be most prudent if we retreated.'_

 _'Alright,'_ came her reply. ' _Than meet me at the specified location.'_

 _'Understood. My deepest thanks, Fiore.'_

As Saber rushed towards him like a comet, red lightning ablaze all around her, Chiron quickly sidestepped her blow, and leapt away through the ensuing kick-up of dust and debris from the street.

"Damn you, you horse's ass! Are you running away?"

… Just because it was physiologically true, that did not give her the right to call him such a harsh thing. But, with a chuckle, the centaur sage let it slide. "Indeed I am. At this rate, I am more than guaranteed to lose! So, perhaps it would be best to just call this a draw!"

"Get back here, you bastard!"

As a last bit of deterrence, and despite the pain in his arm, Chiron sent several more arrows flying towards the enraged Saber, while he sped and galloped away.

The last one she managed to catch just as it pierced her breastplate.

Quite impressive…

* * *

As Mordred pulled out the arrow, he looked around, though, in truth, he knew that the horse bastard was already long gone.

"Damn it!"

* * *

As Kairi was trying to figure out the best way to employ the hydra bone-dagger, the car suddenly stopped rattling.

Why had she stopped firing?

Gingerly, he peeked his head around the back of the car. The girl than called out to him. "It would seem that we are done here for the night. But worry not, we will be awaiting your arrival in Trifas! I look forward to settling this matter when we meet again!"

After that grand declaration, Kairi warily watched as Fiore's mystic code picked up and brother and carried them both away.

With a groan, he stood up and look in the direction that they had fled. "Why the sudden retreat? They had me almost dead to rights. Did something happen to her servant?"

Damn, he really needed a smoke.

Unfortunately, he did not have any more of his favorite brand on hand, so he had to settle for another, recommended by, and bought at an exorbitant price from, a certain dollmaker that he had had a few "run-ins" with in the past.

As he inhaled his first lungful, he immediately regretted it. "Damn, she wasn't kidding. This brand is just terrible!"

A second later, he shrugged and inhaled another mouthful.

Maybe he had a bit of a problem…

As he continued to abuse his lungs, the Necromancer looked up to see Saber, back in her casual clothes walking towards him. The expression on her face was not one of triumph, but instead one of anger, embarrassment, and slight disgust.

He gave her a cheeky grin and a wave as she approached him and took in the sight of the totaled car that he was leaning against.

"So, I'm guessing Archer and Assassin also decided to retreat?"

She stopped right next to him and cross her arms in a sulk. "Uh-huh."

"So, guess that means our first real battle in this War is a draw. But, at the very least, now we both got a pretty good taste of this Holy Grail War tonight."

That seemed to set Saber off. "Don't you dare speak for me!" she screamed.

"Why not? The look on your face was rather obvious. Besides, regardless of who we decided on, it's rather pointless to chase anyone now."

As he spoke, Kairi flicked away his cancer-stick, and walked over to a nearby car that had survived the battle more or less intact. "Anyway, it's not like we won't get more chances to take them down soon." He peered through the window of the driver's side.

Yep, this would do rather nicely.

"After all, they're all head to Trifas now, aren't they?!" SMASH!

With a slam of his elbow, the window was shattered, and he unlocked the car, and began to hotwire it.

Saber watched him with a completely dumfounded look on her face. "Come one," Kairi said. "Hop in! We're going back!"

Saber let out a sigh of resignation. "Man, I hope that we don't have to end up missing and dropping out of this Grail War because of you getting us both arrested, Master." Despite what she just said, there was confident grin on her face.

Kairi turned to look at her, with his big scars, square chin covered with a five o'clock shadow, dark sunglasses, biker clothes, and a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and chuckled. "What, with this innocent face?"

They both shared a laugh at that.

* * *

At the designated spot, where a hidden van waited, along with a few homunculi servants, Fiore and Caules alit onto the ground.

A moment later, Caules found himself being roughly dropped onto the pavement. Ouch.

As he rubbed at his back in slight pain, his sister spoke. "Caules."

He looked up at her. Despite being her caretaker for most of his life, Fiore was still his elder sister. As such, when she spoke in such a tone, he knew better than to argue. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Crap. What could he say? "W-well, I just… I just wanted to help you, that's all."

At her silence, he felt a bit more emboldened, and looked her in the eye. "It wouldn't be good for us to lose Archer, even if we do have the enemy's Berserker. Besides, I'm the one who's supposed to protect you and provide you with backup. Assassin was out here, tonight! Jack the Ripper! With her specific noble phantasms, you were not safe!"

"What you did tonight was nothing short of irresponsible!"

Oh boy. Now she was mad at him! "Do you not understand what it means to be a Master in this War?!"

At that, he bowed his head in shame. "Caules… Grandfather Darnic chose to step in and lead Yggdmillennia to victory in this War. As Masters, it is our solemn obligation to help and support him in achieving that goal."

She was right. He had acted without thinking. "But still…"

At that, he raised his head, and saw that the anger had dissipated from her voice, though she had turned away from him. "Were it not for you and your actions this night, I would not be alive! So, for that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Fiore…"

"Come on, let's go."

With a small smile, Caules picked himself up, while the homunculi maid helped Fiore into her wheelchair.

All in all, this night had not turned out as bad as he had thoug… "Caules?"

"Yeah?"

Fiore turned her head to look at him in questioning. "What did you mean by "specific noble phantasms?" We were never told what Jack the Ripper's abilities were."

Shit. Come on, come on, think fast! "I-it was just deductive reasoning! Y'know, it was said that Jack only attacked women, and well, since you're a girl (no offence) it just seemed likely that Assassin had specific phantasms geared towards killing women, right?!"

Though she gave him a raised eyebrow of confusion, she seemed to accept that answer. When her back was turned, Caules let out a silent sigh of relief.

That had been too close, and all because of a slip of the tongue.

Well, at least things couldn't get any worse.

* * *

As the battles had drawn to a close, two sets of eyes, with only one unaware of the other, had been watching these bouts with great interest.

One pair had belonged to the officer that Kairi Sisigou had appeared to have hypnotized. The minute that he had turned the corner, the "officer" had stopped pretending, and then followed Sisigou and Saber at an undetectable distance.

However, the minute that this observer had clasped eyes on Assassin of Black, it had taken a great deal of willpower to follow Lord El-Melloi II's order to not interfere.

The other observer of the battle was had been the tramp from earlier, this time not playing his violin and he stroked his chin as the battle continued, and as the officer suddenly vanished into thin air, but not astral form.

"Intriguing," he whispered to himself.

It seemed that it was time to head to Trifas. The game was now afoot!

* * *

Reika and Jackie, bandaged up and back in her now-favorite sundress, sat at the table, and enjoyed a nice, quiet dinner. With Jackie's hurt arm in a sling, Reika had to spoon-feed her new daughter, though neither really minded.

With a happy grin, Jackie bit into the offered piece of hamburg steak. She was just so adorable!

"Does it taste good?" Reika asked.

"Mm-hm!"

For a moment, there was nothing but comfortable silence. Then, Reika looked with apology at her daughter's wounds. "I'm sorry, dear. If I was a mage, than I'd be able to heal you. Please forgive me."

Jackie shook her head at that, her grin still on her face. "Nope! It's not your fault, mommy! Those jerks out there were just big mean cheaters!"

How wonderful of her to say that. "Oh, my sweet, adorable Jack. Thank you. But, what should we do about that nasty injury of yours? Your pretty little hand…"

Jackie thought for a moment, and then giggled. "Well, eating something yummy might help."

"Oh! In that case, I have just the thing!"

If she remembered correctly, they still had one mage heart left. With a happy grin, she went into the kitchen to find it.

A moment later, she returned with it, covered in saran wrap. They did not want it going bad after all.

"Now, say 'ahhh.'"

"Ahh."

As the heart made its way through Jackie's cute little mouth, and down her cute little throat, Reika watched in excitement as the wounds she had sustained in the fight glowed gold, and then vanished entirely. "Look," her daughter exclaimed, as she withdrew her arm from the sling. "It's all better now!"

Reika was just happy that her daughter was happy, like any good mother should be. A moment later, Jackie's face grew sad. "Uh-oh. Now we're all out of hearts, mommy. What are we going to do?"

The smile of Reika's face would have made any demon worth its salt propose to her right then and there. "Now don't you worry about a thing, dear. When we head over to Trifas, we'll definitely find more mage hearts for you to hunt and eat. It will all be fine."

"You're right! Thank you, mommy!"

Of course, she was. Mommies were always right. "Now then, I think we should go to bed a little early tonight. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Okay!"

* * *

The goddess walked on, invisible to the naked eye.

Through city and forest and mountain and river, she walked on.

Unlike ordinary mortals, she went much faster. Besides, she did not need to sleep, eat, urinate, defecate, or even breath. She just strode forth, eager to bring her love to the world. But, though she was now a goddess, she could not do it alone. She needed help. She needed an army. She needed a general, and she had just the person in mind.

So, at the Border of Romainia, she stopped, and then drew an intricate circle full of arcane and foreign, alien designs.

Instead of a long chant, however, she just said one thing. "Come to me."

The circle glowed, and from it emerged a man.

He was tall, with ling black hair tied back from his face. He was clean-shaven and handsome and was clad in shining armor and robes of silver, green, and white, all of which were adorned with crosses. This man was a knight, a holy warrior of god, devoted only to all that was good.

When he clasped his sad eyes upon her, those sad eyes widened in great confusion. "Jeanne?"

The goddess smiled. "Hello, Gilles. It's good to see you again."

"What is going on? Is this a Holy Grail War? Wait, what's happened to you? Why do you look and feel so… different?"

She held up a hand to halt his questioning. "All you need to know, my old friend, is thus: I have been elevated to something beautiful and glorious, beyond even that of God himself."

Despite his past, and the whispers in his mind, he could not help himself. "Jeanne! Don't talk like that! Such a thing is blasphemy!"

"Blasphemy? What a strange word, to come from your lips, wouldn't you agree?"

What did she… oh no, she knew! She knew what he had done! With a sob of despair, he fell to his knees, and grabbed her hand. "Oh Jeanne! Please, forgive me. God help me, what I did?! I deserve to burn in hell, it is true, but still, please, forgive me, though I don't deserve it!"

A moment later, he felt her lightly poke his brow with two fingers, and then caress his face. In confusion, he looked up to see her, looking down upon him with all three of her eyes, and a gentle smile still on her face. Then she said four words that struck him straight to the core of his heart. "I forgive you, Gilles."

What?! Why, after all he had done?! As he continued to weep profusely, she kept caressing his head, and then gently drew him into a hug against her armored chest. "Pour Gilles. How you suffered and fell after my death. Such a cruel world, to let such a thing happen to you, my general, my friend. But worry not, I shall make it all better."

Before he could register exactly what she just said, her hug grew tight. "Let me remake you, with my new power, and with the power of my new family. Take in my love, Gilles."

The pain! It was excruciating beyond belief, though it was the least of what he deserved. As he shook and writhed in pain, Jeanne kept him firmly held against her, and that same serene smile on her face.

As he screamed, a strange tome appeared in his flailng hands, a twisted thing made of human flesh, with a child's screaming face on its cover made from the same material.

Then, it vanished into black sparks.

After what seemed like an eternity, the goddess finally released Gilles de Rais from her loving embrace, and he now arose a much-changed man.

His armor was now as black as hers, and dark wings, like a fallen angel's, sprouted from his back. His skin and hair were now both as white as bones in the snow, and his brow was also adorned with a third eye, the orb as green and gray as a decaying forest.

The most interesting change, however, was not physical, but mental, as he soon realized.

"The voices! They're… they're gone!"

"Yes Gilles, your madness has been banished, as has your connection to that foul book and it's even fouler author. You are free."

Free. Free!

With a happy, rapturous laugh full of great and unending joy, and fresh tears in all three of his eyes, he knelt, and kissed her hands with his unworthy lips. "Thank you, thank you!"

The goddess smiled, and then her face grew somber, which he noticed. "What is it?"

"Though it pains me to ask, I have need you once more, old friend. Will you join me, in my new crusade, to save this world, and fill it with my new love?"

He did not even hesitate, and so he quickly unsheathed his sword to lay it at her feet. "For you, my goddess, I would follow your faded footprints into the bowls of Hell itself!"

He then dared to look up upon her. "What would you have me do?"

In response, she smiled, touched by his unwavering devotion. "Follow me, my first general, and greatest. Follow me, to Trifas. We will find our army there, but worry not, for as we make our way there, our captains shall join us along the way..."

* * *

 _Hanging Gardens of Babylon_

With a gasp, Caster paused in his shoveling of potato chips into his mouth, and looked to his right. There, seemingly having just appeared out of thin air, was the spellbook that he had given to a good friend, so very long ago.

He looked at it for a moment, and then giggled, a mad thing full of wonder and excitement at the new direction life had just taken him.

Beside him, to his left, Francisca paused in her own eating. "What's so funny?"

He turned to grin at her. "Something very amazing has just happened."

 **A/N Big things are happening**. **Again, I apologize if anyone was disgusted by the scene with Celenike. Read and review and enjoy, please**

Servant Stats

Saber: Gilles (Alter)

 **Stats**

STR: A+

END: B

AGI: B+

MAN: C++

LCK: A

N.P.: A++

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: A

Riding: A++

Devotion to his Goddess: A+. Combines Protection of the Faith, and bravery, allowing him to not be affected by any mental influence.

 **Personal Skills**

Military Tactics: C

Golden Rule: B

Affections of the Goddess: B

 **Noble Phantasms**

Grand War order of the Goddess: A. Calls upon the loyalty that many Knights and lords of France swore to Jeanne d'Arc. He brings them into the world as Heroic Spirits, along with their forces.

Sword of the Goddess: B. The crystallization of Gilles' devotion to the Goddess of Orleans.


	5. Chapter 5

Blood, Obsidian, Ocean Chapter 5

 _A burning castle, reduced to rubble and ruins by violence and destruction… a battlefield, scorched by anger and bloodlust… Among it all, the corpses of those who believed in him, who had hated him, and even those simply unloved enough by fate to have been caught in the middle of the horrid conflict; man, women, children…. It made no difference._

 _They were all dead, and the flames licked higher…. So many dead… From where he stood on the hill, he observed it all, with eyes that knew no tears, and, as he looked, he wondered…_

 _How could humans be like this?_

 _Could they be saved?_

 _Did such creatures even deserve to be saved?_

* * *

 _The Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Day_

As the memories faded, Shirou slowly awoke from the memory. Odd, he did not remember falling asleep in one of the water terraces of the Gardens, or, indeed, falling asleep at all. Was that a pillow beneath his head?

Then, as his eyes focused, he was greeted with a sight that was most pleasant to his youthful eyes; the face of Semiramis, gently smiling down upon him as he awoke. The pillow must have been her lap, it seemed.

"Welcome back to the waking world, Master," she said, amusement alit in her voice.

"Oh my," he said. "How did I happen to end up in your lap, Semiramis?"

She chuckled. "In case you have forgotten, Master, I am an Assassin. I have my ways."

Shirou then sat up on the bench and shook his head as he fixed his cassock. "Tell me, what were you planning to do if someone had seen us like this?"

She seemed nonplussed at that statement, crossing her arms under her chest and looking away with a pout as she spoke. "For your information, Master, no one is even around. I simply decided to do something a little more servant-like, for once. Is that really so wrong?"

"No, though perhaps it is a little embarrassing."

Her only response was an indignant 'hmph,' which made him chuckle. "Still," he continued, as he rose from the bench, "I truly appreciate the gesture, Semiramis."

Though she glared at him, it only lasted a second, and she gave an imperious smile in return, having now been mollified by his apology. "There, now was that so hard?"

Her grin then turned slightly dangerous as she looked back up at him. "More importantly, however, it's time now."

"Of course." He then held out his hand towards her, for one must still be courteous to an empress.

She gracefully took it and rose from the bench.

"Let us then begin," he said.

* * *

 _Millennia Castle, Golem Laboratory_

The next batch of golems and homunculi were about complete. Darnic had ordered a marked increase of production, in preparation for what he felt to be the coming battle. Several battalion's worth of the warrior and caster types had already been retrieved from their tanks and outfitted with the proper gear and armaments, and thus were now prepared for combat, along with an equal number of golems.

Yes indeed, this force of flesh and stone would be one to be reckoned with!

"Caster?"

Da Vinci looked up from his work and turned to see Roche almost staring at him with a strange expression in his eyes.

"Yes, Roche? What is it?"

The boy seemed unsure for a moment. "Look… I've been thinking about what you told me earlier… and…"

The Golden Man raised a spectacled eyebrow. "Yes?"

"And… maybe you were right. I should give flesh and blood a second thought. It's just… all I've ever know is stone and metal and marble. Do you think you can teach me… at least how to appreciate it, life and things beyond stone and metal?"

It did the Genius of Vinci's heart proud to see that Roche had at least considered what he had told him.

"I am glad that you listened to me Roche. I promise that, after tonight, I will teach you, since, right now, we are quite busy. But, as a small gift, I will tell you what it is that makes us flawed humans so much better; free will, the ability to choose, rather than just follow orders."

As Roche ruminated over this, Da Vinici's bird suddenly flew into the hanger, and landed on the Genius' shoulder, and trilled into his ear.

The Genius listened with great interest, and then a wry smile stretched across his bearded face. "Very interesting."

"What is it?"

"It would seem that it is time to fully awake our army!"

With a twirl and flourish, Leonardo Da Vinci slammed the butt of his staff onto the floor with a strangely loud 'boom!' Upon contacting the ground, a plethora of blazing green lines spread out, and quickly covered all the golems and homunculi, both active and inactive.

With a short blaze of light, they all came to life.

The Army of the Black was now ready.

* * *

As Vlad III sipped from his wine glass, Darnic stood at his side and relayed to the King the intelligence report that Yggdmillennia Patriarch had just received. "My lord, my sources have just reported to me that exorbitantly large amounts of ancient ruin fragments and excavated artifacts have recently been transported into the country. It coincides with Caster's own findings."

It was more than obvious to both men just who was responsible for this amount of activity. "It would appear that the Red faction has been quite busy as of late," Vlad III observed as he imbibed another elegant mouthful of his cabernet.

"Indeed. Such resources are more than likely intended for the use of their own Caster, though, with such quantities, I can only hope to guess at what they would be required for."

The crimson liquid swirled around in the glass. "I see. It would seem that they have been moving a great deal more quickly than we had previously anticipated. If so, then it stands to good reason that they will mounting an attack against us very soon, more than likely tonight."

Darnic seemed surprised at this hypothesis, which Lancer noted. "Tonight? If I may be so bold, my lord, but why do you believe it will be so soon?"

The Impaling Lord simply smirked, an expression that had been the last thing many a past victim had seen before their execution. "You ask why? Well, it is quite simple, Darnic. In war, sometimes it is best to attack swiftly, if you have even a modicum of the element of surprise on your side, which, I will admit that, at the moment, the Red Faction still possesses."

"I understand. Then, we shall begin the necessary preparations immediately, my Lord."

With a final bow, Darnic quietly left the room, leaving Vlad III alone with his wine and his ruminations.

Yes, as a man who had been bred on war and bloodshed, Vlad III could feel it, deep in his bones and spiritual core, that tonight would be a night for violence and blood.

It would be glorious, made all the more so when he crushed the Servants of the Red Faction, and left them broken and impaled until their screams faded into the dawn, and the ground was irrigated with their blood.

Yes, this night, this battle… it would indeed be glorious.

* * *

 _Hanging Gardens of Babylon_

To call the throne room ostentatious and intimidating could be likened to saying that it hurt to look directly into the sun, or that a bee died after it stung something.

Everything within it seemed a work of art, though slightly macabre in design. Semiramis was quite pleased of how it all turned out. From the top of the throne dais, she and her master looked over the other occupants of the room, of which there were only two at the moment.

The rest of the Red faction servants had been called here over an hour ago, though some had yet to arrive. Brynhilldr and Achilles, the first to arrive, were together, as always, sitting and lazing about on floor, basking in each-other's company, with the Hero of Troy's head resting in the Lovesick Valkyrie's lap, while they chuckled at some whispered joke. For some reason, the two had seemed to hit it off upon their first meeting and had been neigh inseparable ever since, with the Hero of Troy's head resting in the lovesick Valkyrie's lap. For the life of the ancient empress, Semiramis could not figure out why two were so close; Rider was a blowhard and a bore, and Lancer seemed like a broken flower.

The doors to the room opened, and Archer strode in, the scent of fire and ozone ever following him, like an omen of doom, while his footsteps seemed to thunder in the ears like the gavel of a judge about to pass sentence. Of all the servants of the Red Faction, this one, if it came down to it, would be most difficult, if not impossible, to take down, if the situation got out of hand. Even here, in the seat of her power, her Hanging Gardens, Semiramis still felt a touch of uncertainty, especially as the radiant demi-god approached the foot of the dais and looked up at her and Shirou with his polychromatic eyes.

Shirou simply smiled, as he always did. "Archer. So good of you to come. I do apologize for calling you here."

"It is of no concern to me," the inhuman servant of the Bow replied. "Is it now time?"

Shirou nodded. "It is. The last Servant, and his Master should arrive shortly.

Though her face show no outward displeasure, Semiramis was well aware of who still had yet to show, and, in all honesty, would have been happier if the monstrous duo had decided not to attend, and instead simply flung themselves into the ocean to drown.

The doors then slammed open, and Francisca and Caster happily strolled in. For once, the latter was not stuffing himself silly with that disgusting snack food. Instead, he held in his hands… a skull. "Hi hi everyone!" "Ciao, Ciao." "Sorry we're late, though truly we're not!" "Si, si! But everything is very good." "Oh wow, ugly hag, this place isn't half bad, but not too good either!" "Si, si! Can't hold a candle to the Vatican! Also, are we starting now? That is why we are here, yes?"

Every one of the ancient heroes in the room, save for Archer and Shirou, involuntarily shivered when they clasped eyes on the skull that Caster was nonchalantly tossing up and down in his hands, even Semiramis. They all remembered how the Servant of the Spell's Master had summoned him, their "feasting," and the screams that had accompanied the act.

Honestly, why her master had felt the need to bargain with such disgusting creatures was beyond her. She could only hope that it would not come back to bite them in the near future.

"Ugh. As always, you two are infuriatingly late. I hope that it means you two have not forgotten about the Great Holy Grail War? Also, would you two please stop calling me a hag?!"

"Why should we?" "Si, si! Is not proper to address a hag by her proper age in life?" 'Yep, yep, and since you're, like, a bajillion more years older than us, then we have every right to call you a withered, dried up old hag full of dust!" "Si, si!"

The ancient empress ground her teeth, though no one in the room dared to laugh at the comical scene.

Then, the pair's grins turned downright malicious, as Caster tossed away the skull, and it dissipated into purple sparks. "As for the War, why, we would never ever forget such a thing!" "Si, si! The chance to for a wish, to fulfil our deepest desire!" "Yep, yep! What a fun thing to think about! Can you all just imagine how wonderful that would be, our deepest wish coming true?!"

As the pair giggled, everyone else in the room felt more than a slight bit of dread when they thought about what the horrific pair's wish would be.

Then, it suddenly registered to the rest of the Servants one of the pair's earlier statements. Were they truly about to attack?

The pair then began another ring around the rosy dance. "Imagine it, François!" "Oh, I am, Francisca!" "The carnage!" "The bloodshed!" The screams of agony and despair as heroes get horribly defiled and die a second, gruesome death, unable to fulfil the dreams that rest within their hearts!" "Si, Si, what a beautiful thought indeed. Oh, how fun this shall be!"

"Are you two quite finished?" Semiramis asked.

In response, they both gave her a stuck-out tongue and a pair of very unchildlike gestures, before bursting into giggles. "Almost. We were just about to tell you that we have some good news!"

"What sort of "good news"?"

Caster's grin turned very, very _wrong_ , as a strange tome appeared in one of his hands. Even from a distance, the aura radiating off the thing felt evil. It even made Archer raise an eyebrow.

Caster then chuckled. "The sort of news that will make our fighting from the sidelines much more enjoyable!"

"Oh, so you two are not going to be fighting!"

"Duh!" "Si, si" "Do you honestly expect us, a pair of adorable, innocent, and defenseless children…" "To be on the front lines in messy, noisy combat?" "How very abusive of you, mermaid hag!" "Si, si! Very abusive! We should be calling the authorities down on your wrinkled old head!"

It seemed that her master could not help but reluctantly chuckle at the pair's antics, as he always did. Restraining herself from annihilating the disgusting pair on the spot, Semiramis sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Moving On! It seems that we are now all here."

Her gaze then turned steely and resolute. "As such, now that all our preparations are finally complete, let us all now move forth."

Unable to resist, a smile danced its way across her lips. "Since this is the Great Holy Grail War, then it is perhaps best for us to show off a bit, right?"

Rider, who, along with Lancer, had been standing quiet the entire time, then spoke up. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Especially after all the time and effort that you put in to fortifying this castle?"

Semiramis could not help but laugh at his ignorance. "Hahahaha! Fortifying? Really? Oh, my dear Rider, you are quite mistaken."

That got everyone, even the annoying pair, quiet with confusion. With another smile, and a symbolic gesture of her arms, Semiramis activated her Noble Phantasm…

* * *

The forest of Trifas, framed by the glowing range sky of the slowly setting sun, looked tranquil, warm, sleepy, and at peace, as these sorts of vistas are wont to appear in the sunset. All the animals of the daytime were beginning to settle into their various nests and dens and such, so as to allow those of a more nocturnal bent their chance to roam and stretch their various limbs and wings.

It was, in a word, peaceful.

But, not for long.

The ground began to shake, and from within the forest emerged a sight that would have either terrified any viewers into gob-smacked awe or sent the fleeing away in terror.

In a large explosion of drees, dirt, and dust, a large, floating fortress rose from the ground, full of curves and spikes and large, floating towers, shaped in a crescent figure, like the coliseums of old.

This was the Noble Phantasm of Semiramis, the Wise Empress of Assyria. These were the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

And, after 2,000 years, they once again let their grandeur fill the skies.

* * *

As the fortress began to move, Achilles, Brynhildr, Archer, and even Caster looked out one of the many balconies. All of them, including Caster and Francisca, were struck speechless for a moment, save for Archer, who just looked as nonplussed as ever.

Finally, it was the Hero of the Trojan War who managed to find his tongue. "H-hey… c-come on now… what the hell kind of a joke is this, huh? How is this the Phantasm of a gods-damned Assassin?!"

From over them, Semiramis emerged on a higher balcony, and looked down upon them with amusement, like that of a goddess gazing down towards lesser mortals. "Surprised, are you?"

They all turned to look at her, even the disgusting duo. "Behold then, my fellow Red Servants, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. This is my Noble Phantasm!"

She then spread her arms out wide, gesturing to the impossibility that was all around them. "As you can see, this is the sort of castle that does not exist to defend. This is a fortress of the skies, an aerial fortress, to be more precise!"

Rider than gave an appreciative chuckle and whistle. "Oh, I get now. We're going to use this thing to invade the Black Faction's domain. Pretty cool, huh Bryn?"

As the Daughter of Odin nodded her agreement, Archer spoke. "This is indeed a most impressive Noble Phantasm."

For once, Caster and Francisca were not… entirely rude towards Semiramis when they spoke this time. "Hmmm… you know, maybe this does hold a few candles to the Vatican after all!" "Si! Even I will admit that this is a sight to behold!" "Yeah… but she's still a dusty old hag!" "Si, si!"

Well… Semirmais would accept the compliment.

Shirou emerged to stand beside the unusual Assassin, a smile of pride on his face. "If we continue to fly at this speed, it will not be much long before we are close enough for those who have barricaded themselves within the Millennia Castle to catch a glimpse of us."

He then looked them all straight in the eye, and his smile gained a slight edge. "Alright, everyone. Prepare for battle!"

* * *

Once the grand declaration had been given, Francisca and Caster went off to fulfill their own part of the invasion, a part that, in all honesty, had at first been only a joke, but now was, surprisingly, a reality.

In the depths of the Gardens, Caster and Francisca had prepared a very special chamber. A mile in circumference, it was filled to the brim… with corpses. Enough that it seemed they had pilfered a thousand graveyards and mortuaries to get them.

All were dead, save for one.

This poor person, bound and gagged as they were, had been laid in the center of a drawn circle. As it saw the diminutive duo approach, the prisoner began to scream in…. well, they weren't quite sure what it was screaming. Pain, fear, or anger?

Oh well, who cared?

With a giggle, Francisca withdrew a serrated knife, and Caster withdrew his recently reacquired tome. With a shared giggle, they approached their victim, and began the ritual…

* * *

 _Night_

Sure enough, Shirou's prediction proved to be correct. Though night had now fallen upon the land, all within the Castle of the Yggdmillennia could see the floating fortress drifting towards the, shining in the night sky like a beacon of doom.

From its underside, a large wave of what appeared to be enormous fangs fell to the ground with a cacophony of dull thuds, as well as a deluge of blood and desiccated flesh.

The moment that each incisor hit the ground, they seemed to burrow into the soft, _fertile_ soil. Then, a moment later, up from that same ground sprouted strange, horrific skeletal soldiers. Each was seven feet tall and had only a large fanged maw where their heads were supposed to be. Clutched in their fleshless hands were primitive looking weapons of the same material.

These were the Dragon-teeth Warriors, born from the myth of Jason and the Argonauts, and a common sort of thing used during the Age of Gods, though rarely in such numbers.

When the drops of blood and flesh hit the ground in a macabre rain, from them came… _horrors_ , the sort that made all who look upon them want to run away in mindless, animalistic terror. They seemed comprised of pulsating flesh, tentacles, suction cubs, eyes, and maws filled with sharp, shark teeth-like blades.

These were things that could only be described as _demons_ , as inadequate as such a term could be, while also being completely accurate.

In a large wave of rattling and squelching and slithering and such, this new, terrifying, and inhuman army stood, and, as one, ambled and slid their way towards the Millennia Castle.

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

With his Clairvoyance skill in full effect, Chiron could make out every detail of the floating fortress, as well as the approaching army of skeletons and creatures. He then turned to his master who sat by him. "It would appear that the Red Faction is invading with their entire domain. How very unexpected."

"Archer, can you tell me what their current status is?"

He stared ahead again for a moment longer, and then deactivated the skill. "They have just stopped. It is my opinion that they intend to use these plains as the battlefield."

Then, there came a voice from above. "So, it would seem."

Suddenly leaping down from the rooftop to land before them in an impressive acrobatic display was Darnic, who then turned to look at Chiron and Fiore.

"G-grandfather…" Fiore stammered, as she attempted to meet his gaze.

He looked at her for a moment, and then made a gesture with his head. "Go back inside, little Fiore. As it is, we now have no choice but to entrust the battle to our Servants at this point."

"That is correct."

In a shower of blue sparks, Lancer materialized, and he looked… a bit different. He was now adorned in the armor that Caster and Rider had helped create for him, forged from magic and runes and ancient relics, brought in specifically for such a task. It seemed a dark thing of plate and edges and ridges, and spikes, along with silver and gold and dark turquoise and black, while allowing room for his robes to flow freely. In the center of the ridged chest plate, a glowing ruby fed the armor, and its current wearer, power, as well as making him resemble the black knight out of a fairy tale, though his head remained uncovered. With it, Chiron felt Lancer's power to a palpable, almost uncomfortable degree, though, from an aesthetic standpoint, even the centaur had to admit it seemed an exquisite, if slightly macabre, work of art and craftsmanship, especially in contrast to his own simpler, though no less well-crafted, armor that covered his centaur half.

Darnic seemed briefly surprised at his Servant's sudden appearance, but said nothing, as Vlad III continued, and the rest of the Servants, Rider, Saber, and Caster, joined and appeared on the balcony. "From here on out," the King of Wallachia said, "you can leave this battle to us."

Down below, Berserker trudged into the main courtyard, his two massive axes held firmly in his paw-like hands. By his side stood Caules, who, as Chiron noted, looked… uncertain.

Rider looked over at the approaching army and gave an appreciative whistle. Lancer smirked, and it was a thing full of the promise of death. "Not only have these cretins come barging into my domain like lowly criminals, but now they have left these filthy and unsightly Dragon-Teeth Warriors and abominations everywhere."

Darnic gave a low bow. "My lord. You may wield all of your mighty power to your heart's content."

"Good."

Lancer then turned to look at his summoner. "Go release that mad brute, Berserker of Red, so that it may join our forces."

"… Forgive my impudence, my lord, but are you sure that is a wise decision?"

Lancer gave a dignified chuckle. "Our enemies have travelled quite a long and weary distance, with the intent of seeking an all-out battle with us. As such, it is only simple and common curtesy for us to utilize our entire force as well. To do any less would be insulting."

Darnic gave another bow and a nod. "I understand. It shall be done at once, my lord."

As the lord of Yggdmillennia retreated back into the castle to carry out Lancer's orders, Chiron met his master's eyes, and received a nod of acquiescence in return, before she retreated into the safety of the castle.

He then waved down below towards Caules, who gave a nod of his own.

* * *

With the signal given, Caules turned towards Asterios, who was looking straight ahead, his red-and-black eyes fixed straight on the enemy forces.

"Asterios?"

The behemoth paused in his stare to look down upon his master. "Do your best out there, okay? Also, remember, don't use your Noble Phantasm unless I order you to, got it?"

He received a large nod from the giant's maned head, before he returned his gaze towards the enemy on the horizon, and a low, rumbling growl began to echo and build in the Bull of Minos' throat.

With a final nod, Caules headed back into the castle, idly noting Aunt Bazett walk into the courtyard. He let loose a sigh. Guess he should tell that "author" all about this…

* * *

Swiftly joining Berserker in the main courtyard were the fruits of Caster's and Roche's labors over the past two months; a grand and mighty army of Homunculi and Golems, all armed and ready for battle. The warriors of flesh and blood were even clad in armor reminiscent of his own historical forces, and each emblazoned with both his personal heraldry, and that of a roaring dragon.

Lancer looked over them all from atop his summoned mount from the balcony and was quite pleased. He then turned towards the Renaissance Man, who also looked upon his creations with pride, and a touch of sadness that these living creations of his would have to march to war.

"Truly, you and your master could not have created a finer fighting force for me to command, Caster," Vlad III declared.

The Genius of Vinci accepted the compliment with a slight blush, and then waved it away. "Your gratitude is pleasing to my perfect and genius ears, King Vlad. Of the homunculi, you have three thousand cavalries, mounted upon steeds similar to your own; Five thousand infantry, two thousand archers and artillery, and one thousand spell-casters, while of the golems, you have a brigade of three thousand. They are all awaiting your orders, my lord, and are more than ready to fight."

"Good."

The King of Wallachia then turned towards the centaur sage. "Archer, I want you to take command of our homunculi forces."

The centaur seemed surprised, and yet also grateful, at having been given such an honor. "Of course. I thank you for having such faith in me."

"Very good."

He then turned to look upon Da Vinci once again. "Caster, you are to remain here on standby. The timing of when to unleash the Berserker of Red shall be left in your capable hands and judgement, as well as how best to deal with that flying fortress."

Caster's ever-present bird trilled softly from his shoulders, and the Golden Artist gave a bow to the king. "As you wish, Lancer."

"Rider, Saber; you two and Berserker shall be fighting alongside one another the front lines. Let none stand in your way!"

The Hound of Chulainn nodded, as an excited grin spread across his tattooed face. "You got it, boss, though, if you mind me asking, if a certain greenie were to show up?"

Know to whom the Child of light was referring to and having been informed of the enemy servant's true identity, Vlad III nodded. "Of course. Say no more. The Hero of the Trojan War will be your responsibility to deal with. Now, show us your prowess as Ireland's greatest champion and hero!"

Rider chuckled. "Awesome! That's all I needed to hear! Challenge accepted!"

He then suddenly looked down and frowned for a moment. "What the… Hey, Bazett! What the hell are you doing down there?"

It was the sister of Rider's distasteful master. Like the other homunculi, she was mounted upon a golem steed, armored in a chain shirt, and armed with a simple lance. The red-headed woman looked up and gave Rider a cheeky wave. "What the hell do you think I'm doing down here, Rider? I'm joining the battle!"

"Are you crazy?! This ain't a place for a human!"

"Well screw you back, Cu! I'm a Fraga, and Irish! I couldn't rightly call myself either if I chose not to ride into battle alongside the Hound of Chulain himself, now, could I?"

Lancer raised an eyebrow at this. Such a spirited woman.

Rider then let out a chuckle. "All right, fine! But don't expect me to be only watching your back, girlie! I still have a score to settle with Rider of Red!"

"Fine by me, ya blue-haired bastard! Besides, I can take care of myself. I've fought gods-damned Dead Apostles, after all!"

Truly, what a remarkable example of humanity's courage. If she survived this battle, Vlad III felt she would definitely deserve a great deal of praise and commendation.

Meanwhile, Saber said nothing, but simply narrowed his eye at the sight of the flying fortress and laid a hand upon his red-hilted sword, while his yoroi armor materialized and settled upon his form.

In the courtyard below, all could hear the rumble of Berserker's growl as it began to increase in volume. That one needed no instruction. In truth, when one had to deal with a mad beast such as him, then it was simply like using a crossbow; just point, aim, and release.

Still, it did not hurt to voice this. "Berserker!" Vlad III called out to the behemoth. "There are no orders for you! You have my permission to go as wild as you please!"

The Bull of Minos' growl increased even more until it seemed as if it could shake the very earth itself.

With his subordinate's orders now given and received, Vlad III then looked straight towards the dark horizon, at the army that dared to set foot in his domain and raised the point of his weapon towards them. "Everyone! Tonight, the True First battle of the Great Holy Grail War begins! The enemy has grown desperate enough that they were forced to bring their entire domain to our own, and yet seem to believe that we will simply quiver and quietly surrender in the face of their teeming masses. Well, to that, I refuse!

"So, now, all I ask of you, my fellow Servants of the Black Faction, is that tonight, you show me your mettle and worth, and that you are all truly deserving of your legends and status as heroes! Will you do this?!"

They all gave their own answers of ascent, with Rider's being the loudest and most boisterous, aside from Berserker's.

"Excellent! Then tonight, we shall stand victorious! Overcoming such overwhelming power, prevailing over despair, and sending our enemies to their graves in a torrent of blood and righteous fury!"

He then pointed his spear at the floating fortress. "Those barbarians! Not only are they corrupting our domain, but they also have the gall to mock us as they do so! As such, they deserve nothing less than a brutal death! So now, I ask that you fight!

"Fight for your Gods! Fight for your legends! Fight and revel in their pain as you murder them where they stand! As you do, let it be known that I, Vlad III, The King and Defender of Wallachia, did not retreat this night, and that I stood tall and strong against our enemy!

"So, come, servants of this grand and noble Black Faction! Let us go forward and show these monsters and false heroes just what it means to be true heroic spirits!"

With that, he spurred his steed forward, leaping off the balcony, landing onto the ground before his army, and then and sped off straight towards the invaders, followed by Saber and Archer. In the name of Lord God Almighty Himself, Vlad III would show all who dared to stand before the might of the Son of the Dragon!

In the courtyard, Berserker sped off behind Lancer like a comet of muscle, followed closely behind by the massive army of homunculi and golems as it surged forward in a clatter of armor and weapons, as well as the pounding of hooves, boots, and stone appendages upon the ground.

With another wide and bloodthirsty grin upon his tattooed face, Rider put two fingers to his mouth, and let forth a clear and piercing whistle.

In a flash of blazing light, a great, mighty, and large chariot appeared in the air, a powerful thing of Celtic design, engraved with golden depictions of hounds and the sun and glowing runes, and it fairly bristled with metal and blades and weapons, including a bow and arrows, a few swords, an axe, and some others. Pulling this monstrosity were two great and powerful horses, each a king in its own right among the equine breed.

With a great laugh, Rider materialized his spear and shield, leapt onto the chariot and then grabbed and flicked the reigns, making it speed straight off, the air streaming past his face as his laughter echoed through the night.

* * *

Within the confines of his darkened personal chambers, Darnic studied his chessboard. More specifically, his gaze was firmly drawn to one of the black Lancer pieces, and he picked it up for closer observation and rumination.

His Lancer. Vlad Tepes III. The bloody hero who had succeeded in repelling the invasion of his homeland by the forces of the Ottoman Empire.

Of course, in the year of 1462, with only a meagre force of ten thousand men to stand against a force of 150,000 Ottoman Troops, the King of Wallachia, already renowned for his cruelty, had resorted to more… creative means of fighting off the invasion.

It was said that when the Ottomans marched into Romania, led by their Sultan, Mehmed II, they had been greeted with a sight straight out of Hell itself; Rows upon rows of bodies, impaled upon stakes. 20,000 captured Turkish soldiers, to be more precise. Some of them had still been alive, screaming and pleading for their torment and agony to end.

According to the story, Mehmed II, Mehmed the Conqueror, the brilliant commander who had conquered Constantinople, and a man well known for his bravery, had been left so utterly horrified by the mere sight of Vlad III's unbridled brutality, that he had ordered a swift and hasty retreat, though he had been later convinced by his commanders to stay. It was then said that Mehmed II had said "I am not frightened by any man, but a devil himself is a great exception."

Truly, was it any wonder that Vlad III's brutality would later give rise to the legend of the Vampire, Dracula?

Here, in Romania, where he was still regarded as a noble hero, and his fame was completely unrivaled, his strength was neigh unrivaled, especially once his Demonic Defender of the State skill had secured and bent the leyline to his will. A servant's power was only as great as his renown, or age and thus here, because of that renown, the entire area around the castle had become Vlad III's domain. So, within it, the Impaling Lord was invincible, so much so that, even if he were to face Rider of Red, the king of Wallachia's victory was all but certain.

Yet, despite himself, Darnic found himself clasping that which lay beneath his shirt, closed his eyes, and whispered a prayer from the Torah, a book he had not even glanced at in over eighty years.

אַל–תִּירָאוּ—הִתְיַצְּבוּוּרְאו"

אֶת–יְשׁוּעַתיְיָ,

אֲשֶׁר–יַעֲשֶׂהלָכֶםהַיּוֹם:

כִּי, אֲשֶׁררְאִיתֶםאֶת–מִצְרַיִםהַיּוֹם—

לֹאתֹסִפוּלִרְאֹתָםעוֹד,

עַד–עוֹלָם.

יְיָ, יִלָּחֵםלָכֶם;

וְאַתֶּם, תַּחֲרִשׁוּ "ן

"And Moses said to the people

don't be afraid! Stand firm and see

the salvation of Hashem

which He shall work for you today

For the way you see the Egyptians is only for today.

But you shall no longer continue to see them this way

for eternity.

Hashem will fight for you,

but you shall remain silent."

Oddly enough, the prayer did bring a small amount of comfort to Darnic's heart. Odd since, after the Grail War, he had never given much thought or time to the religion of his family and ancestors, though, even he had been beyond horrified when he had discovered what the Nazi's had done to his people and relatives…

After the War, and during a gap in in preparations, Darnic had taken some personal time to visit the newly founded (or reacquired, holy land), and his cold heart had, for a moment been gladdened by the fact that his people, though perhaps not thriving, were still here. Of course, the establishment of the new homeland could have been handled a lot better.

Like his people, he was a survivor, willing to do whatever it took to make it to the end and achieve his goals, come Hell or Highwater.

Besides, if the battle did begin to go poorly for his faction, with all of his command seals still in hand, he still had one trump card, ready to play, despite his servant's wishes…

* * *

From his chambers, Gordes looked upon the image that floated over the menorah. It was his Saber, rushing alongside Lancer and the galloping Archer.

With a grimace and a clenched fist, Gordes looked down at the black command seals on his hand. Tonight, this would be where he would prove himself, though his servant!

Despite the fact that his servant was an impudent pain in the ass for all the six days that they had known each other, and thus had hardly interacted, Gordes was still looking forward to seeing him in action. Who wouldn't, if even half of the tales of Yagyu Jubei's feats of swordsmanship were not outright exaggerations by those backward savages of Japan.

Yes, indeed. Tonight, the name of Musik will triumph! He would show them! He would show them all, even his impudent servant!

* * *

In his bedroom, Caules watched the image hanging over the room's menorah. Lancer, Asterios, Archer, Saber, and their army slammed into the enemy forces with the power and strength of a hurricane. The boy especially took note of his servant in the battle. Viscera and bone were flying through the air as his gigantic axes flashed and swung about, all the while Asterios roared like a terrifying beast.

With a gulp, Caules turned away, and went to his computer…

* * *

On the ground, the Forces of Black and Red swarmed ever closer towards each other, like two opposing ocean waves.

From atop one of the floating towers of the Hanging Garden's free-floating towers, Archer stood, his being like a beacon of light, even from the great distance at which he stood.

He drew an arrow from one of his quivers and nocked it to the string of the bow of Shiva.

He briefly looked down upon the swarming armies, and then up and drew back the arrow, pointing it up towards the gleaming heavens that was the night sky. He gave no prayers, and grand declarations, and instead said only one thing. " **Agnito Mantra**."

One arrow, as bright as the stars, was released into the night sky. What fell in its place were now no less than 80,000 arrows, each burning brightly!

As these missiles descended like messengers of death onto the infantry of the army of the Black, the silent soldiers swiftly raised their shields. It was a good attempt, but the arrows still knifed through them and the golems, like a scythe through wheat, in a great burst of fire and lighting. Of course, to their credit, though a good number had fallen, many still remained on their feet, and were still pushing forward.

Even for homunculi and emotionless golems, their resilience was to be commended, despite the fact that he had been asked to hold back. "The opening volley has been fired," he declared. "Rider, it is now up to you!"

Once the order had been relayed, Karna leaped off the tower, two great wings of flame briefly bursting into existence to glide him down towards the battlefield, while more arrows began to fly from his bow.

Just because he was an Archer, that did not mean that he was eager to avoid close quarters combat!

* * *

At the head of his army, Vlad III raised his weapon, as they drew ever closer towards the enemy, ignoring the arrows that rained down upon the infantry. Beside him, the cavalry kept pace, alongside Archer, Berserker, and Saber.

Feeling almost nostalgic, Lancer called out in his Native tongue. "Cavalerie! Halberdi la gata!"

At that order, the gleaming tips of their weapons lowered, as their hooves thundered. "Pentru Slava lui Dumnezeu, și pentru Gloria Țării Românești! Nu arata mila!"

To Caster's credit, the warriors actually repeated his words.

Closer, closer.

Hooves thundered. Berserker bellowed. Archer readied an arrow.

Closer, closer! CLOSER!

Then, in a clash that rivalled the sound of a thousand crashing trains, the armies collided with one another in a cacophony of metal, flesh, bone, and blood!

The Battle Between Red and Black had now truly begun.

* * *

Upon hearing Archer's command, Achilles leapt to his feet. "All right, it's my time to shine!"

Before he left, Brynhilldr watched as he paused, and then began to laugh in joy, pointing at a blue streak that had surged ahead of the rest of the Black Faction's forces, and had begun to tear its way through their own force of skeletons and abhorrent sea creatures.

"You see, Bryn! There's that blue haired bastard that I was telling you about! Looks like he has a chariot as well. I can't wait to kick his ass!"

With a slight chuckle at his antics, Brynhilldr leaned forward and gave Achilles a small kiss, which he kindly returned. Then, she slapped him on the shoulder. "Go get him, Achilles!"

With a grin, Achilles laugh, and leapt off the balcony. "With such an order and kiss from a beautiful woman, how can I hope to lose?! Give them hell, beautiful, for your wish is my command! Now, let this battle begin!"

As he then sped away in his chariot, Brynhilldr chuckled again.

Such a hardy fool, her Achilles. Had he been of the Norse people, his place in Valhalla would have been assured from his very conception!

Then, with a shake of her head, her face grew serious and resolute, though the blush remained on her face.

With her spear materializing in hand, she too then leapt off the balcony, and descended down towards the two armies like a falling, blazing star, while a tail of flame, like that of a meteor, trailed out behind her, along with several runes to help cushion her fall.

Down below, she watched the advance cavalry of the Black faction, alongside its mounted lancer, Archer, Berserker, and Saber, collided with the Dragon -Teeth Warriors and abominations of their sides in a might smash and cacophony of noise and screams.

Despite herself, she felt a great excitement blossom deep within her heart at the sight as she descended. She was still a Valkyrie, a maiden of battle and the chooser of the dead!

* * *

These skeleton and squid-looking creeps were being crushed like ants under his wheels and the hooves of his horses, as well as the occasional stab from Gae Bolg. Despite how easy they were to kill, Cu Chulainn still laughed. This battle, this war! The sound of armies clashing against one another, and soldiers fighting and dying! This! This was what he had been born for!

Then, he heard a familiar laughter, even though the clamor of combat as the two armies joined and saw a familiar green comet speeding towards him and his chariot.

The sight of it only made the wild grin on his tattooed face stretch so wide, that he was honestly surprised it had not split at the seams.

"Aright you bastard! Let's settle this like proper Riders!"

"Fine by me, greenie! Hiyah!"

With flicks of their reigns, the two blazes of light, one blue, and one green, sped towards each other like a pair of comets, before colliding in great sonic explosion of power! Woe betide any who stood in the way of these two warriors!

* * *

 _Hanging Gardens_

From within the safety of the throne room, Caster, Francisca Shirou and Assassin watched as the battle continued, the tome in Caster's hand glowing with an uncomfortable light.

"Oh wow! Isn't this just beautiful, François?" "Si, Si!" "The blood!" "The carnage!" "The death!" "The despair!" "Why, it's enough to make a little girl like me get just so _tingly_ all over, and inside!" "Si, si! Little boys too!"

Shirou and Assassin pointedly ignored the disturbing conversation, with the former appearing to be deep in thought, and not actually looking at the transmission at all, while the later was just watching, and still wishing she could obliterate the disgusting pair on the spot.

Francisca sauntered up to the Master of Red. "Aww, what's the matter, Mr. Fake Priest? Why the long face?" "Si, Si! Are you not pleased with the sight of this lovely battle?"

Shirou then looked up and stared directly into the fake child's disturbing eyes. "I have just had something of a strange revelation. Something is headed this way."

"Oh, what is it?"

The look in his eyes was unreadable, not scared, but also not... _not_ worried. "I don't know. It feels like a Ruler, but, also… _not_."

For as long as she had known the fake priest, he had always exuded a strangely unflappable aura of confidence. It had always been so gosh darn vexing! Now, though? Now she could see a teeny-tiny, teensy-weensy, itsy-bitsy chink, and it made her _excited!_

* * *

 _Unknown_

"What glorious combat!" Rider exclaimed. "Oh, how I wish we could reveal ourselves, Master, if only partake in such contest of armies!"

"For once, I agree with you, Rider," Archer said, as the group all viewed the battle from the Noble Phantasm.

For Saber, the sight was bringing up uncomfortable memories of Camlann.

As he watched, Caster's master recalled his time in the queen's service; Afghanistan, Iraq… he could not tell which had been more horrific, this, or those past wars.

Flat and the other masters just watched quietly. The priest even whispered a short prayer for the deceased.

When the flaming woman was revealed in the image, despite themselves, the Priest's servant let loose a simultaneous gasp of surprise.

El-Melloi II sighed. "All things considered, we may have to reveal ourselves during this battle. It could be our only chance at the Grail. However! It can only be at the most opportune moment, Understand, everyone?"

They all nodded, and continued to watch the battle…

* * *

Chiron did his best to remain level-headed (he was famous for it, after all) but, even for one such as him, it could get easy to lose oneself in the carnage of a pitched battle such as this.

Blink, and there were several homunculi riders bearing down a flock of the demons, stabbing with their spears. Blink, and there was a group of infantry soldiers screaming in agony as they were alternatively stabbed, torn apart, and devoured. Blink, and there was Berserker, covered in guts and bone fragments. Blink, and there was Lancer, his black armor and weapon already painted a deep and disgusting red.

Meanwhile, he found himself almost getting lost in a rhythm of punches, hind-leg kicks, and arrows.

"Reinforce the right flank! Don't let any of these creatures get past us!" he bellowed.

As this order was carried out by a group of horsemen, the Servant of the Bow then looked to his right as he smashed his hooves into another skeleton. "Archers! I need a quick volley. Draw! Loose!"

He sent and several other bowmen each sent three arrows streaking towards a mass of the demonic creatures that were in the process overwhelming a small battalion of infantry. As the arrows shredded through the rubbery flesh, the soldiers managed to regroup and charged back into the fray.

He then stiffened, looked up and saw more flaming arrows arching down towards them, no doubt from Archer of Red, or at least whoever that blazing comet in the sky flying over them and shooting the arrows was. "Incoming!" he yelled.

He tried to intercept as many of them with his own volley as he could, but, even for him, there were too many. The Archer of Red, for the blazing comet could be no one else, was far more superior with the bow than the Centaur Sage. The homunculi still managed to raise a hasty shield wall, little good that it would do them.

Then, a blur landed in front of him, and a great red wave flew out, intercepted the arrows, and then reduced the shafts to kindling.

Once the explosion dissipated, Chiron lowered his arm to see who had saved them.

Despite the chaos about him, Saber seemed to calmly wade through as if he were strolling through a summer garden. To anyone witnessing him, he barely moved the sword in his hand, and then several demons and Dragon-Teeth Warriors fell into pieces. It was if he were not even trying.

Despite his look of nonchalance, for some reason, a distinct aura of bloodlust seemed to grow with each swing of his sword, more specifically, his sword with the red handle.

Without looking, he blocked the overhead slash of three dragon-teeth warriors with only one hand holding his sword.

His arm flexed, and Chiron watched as the skeletons then fell to pieces.

Saber just kept walking, practically wading through a small cluster of the disgusting tentacle demons that were soon reduced to offal.

Then, another comet of flame impacted several meters away kicking up a large explosion, sending homunculi, golems, skeletons, and demons flying, most in charred pieces.

From it emerged a picture of war-like beauty, A tall, armored woman wreathed in flames and carrying a massive spear, and it seemed that all who stood before her were reduced to a bloody mist.

With his face resolute, Chiron charged ahead towards this vision of War and death, dematerializing his bow and grabbing up a fallen homunculi's discarded halberd as he did.

With a loud clang, their weapons met!

* * *

From the relative safety of the forest, the tramp that was not a tramp observed as he shed his fake beard and shabby clothes to reveal his more… pristine attire.

Things were getting out of control, in a way that only a Holy Grail War could get.

Unfortunately, as things were now, he could not intercede. At least, not yet, confined as he was by his class.

So, for now, all he could do was watch…

* * *

 _Hanging Gardens_

Caster rubbed his chin. This was starting to get a bit dull. It was time to make things more… interesting.

He flipped to a new page in the tome and made a slight gesture, mockingly incanting "Double, Double, toil and trouble! Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!" before handing the book off to a grinning Francisca.

The mock incantation did not go unnoticed by Shirou and Assassin. They could still remember the screams…

"If you would be so kind, my dear Francisca?"

"Of course! Wait, are you going to use… that?"

"Not exactly... I'm just going to make things a bit more interesting..."

* * *

On the ground, it was chaos. Scream and shrieks and splatters of blood. Despite it all, the defending force seemed to be… winning. They were turning the tide.

Lancer of Red fought off Archer in an epic duel, while an equally grand bout was fought in the skies between the two Servants of the Mount.

Suddenly, the carcasses of all the dead demons that had been torn and part and killed began to writhe and expand, and then…. More came from the corpses, swarming and slithering.

As they began to swarm back towards the defenders, a burst of power suddenly shot though the veins of all present, and the sky and air itself seemed to turn crimson. **"Come, all of you monsters and criminals and false heroes who dare to trample over my ancestral domain! The time has come for you all to be punished! I will turn my compassion and rage into red** **‐hot stakes and skewer you all! And these stakes are not limited, but truly infinite, so despair—and gorge and suffocate on your own blood and fear! KAZKILI BEY: LORD OF EXECUTION!"**

Upon that proclamation by the Lancer of Black, rows upon rows of stakes erupted from the ground, impaling every watery demon and skeleton in the vicinity. The screams of the demons, and, somehow, the Dragon-Teeth Warriors, were a frightful thing to hear.

With a narrowed gaze, Vlad III kept his steed moving forward.

At this point, how the battle would turn was anyone's guess.

* * *

On the balcony adjacent to the throne room, Caster felt the wind blowing through his hair. Below, the battle continued, and, from this height, the combatants looking like small ants biting and scrapping and swarming over each other.

It was funny to watch. But, no time to dilly-dally. Rolling up his sleeves, Caster held out his hands, and began to chant.

It would not be a Phantasm, but something to at least make things a bit more interesting.

Like a conductor, he waved his arms, and around him, the world seemed to almost hum with power.

Enough to kill some weak fools, and give the rest a taste.

Just like his ancestor, it was time to play a trick...

* * *

As another round of his mighty stakes impaled more and more of the creatures who dared to tread upon his territory, Vlad III looked about. The battle was raging all about him, and he felt pleased. At times, he had found that he had missed this, the thrill of repelling his territory from godless invaders.

When he fought and felt the blood of the heathen and the heretic splash across his person as they screamed upon impalement, he had always felt the grace of God in his soul, and his Voice ringing in his ears with praise as they screamed and pleaded for death.

Yes, despite the chaos about him, Vald III felt content.

Then, the smile fell from his face. "So, they have finally come to me."

Without even looking, the arrow that had been arching towards him was split into kindling with a small explosion of flame, thanks to the stakes that rose to defend their creator.

He then turned to set his gaze upon the one who had shot the arrow.

Even to one such as him, set deeply in his zealous belief of God almighty, as well as his hatred towards all heathen religions, Vlad III could not shake the instinctual feeling that this Archer (due to the gleaming bow in his hands) held within him a touch of the divine.

From where he stood, balanced almost impossible upon the tip of one of the many impaling stakes now littering the battlefield, this figure, this Archer, of fire and storms lifted his head to gaze upon the King of Wallachia with eyes of red and blue. The warrior's gaze seemed more resolute than a mountain, but Vlad was not perturbed. Then, the golden man spoke. "Lancer of Black, or, rather, Vlad III."

"To call me by my true name with such a lack of pomp and respect, then I must surmise you to be the Archer of Red."

"You are correct. I have come with the sole purpose of defeating you. Please, I hope that you will not take it personally."

"Worry not, Archer of Red, for I do not take it personally whatsoever. It is only natural for you all to seek to kill me, the King of this Land."

As they exchanged these pleasantries, the clouds drifted overhead to conceal the moon, making a blanket of true darkness cover the battlefield.

The look in Vlad III's eyes as he gazed down at the Archer of Red was full of frozen bloodlust. "Of course, in that same vein of thought, then I am obligated to do everything in my power to kill you first!"

A dark miasma of red and black seemed to cover the Servant of the Lance and his mount, leaving on his eyes visible, as two solid pinpricks of crimson. Archer showed no discomfort, and merely prepared himself.

"Now then, you lowly criminal who has dared to trespass upon my dominion, **it is time for your judgement!"**

More stakes erupted and surged toward the golden archer, and he was already in flight, with more arrows already loose from his radiant bow, trailing flame and thunder behind them as they sped along. Like before, these were intercepted in an explosion of stake and arrow fragments.

As more attempted to corral him, the Archer took from his belt the dagger sheathed there. With a single cutting motion, the thorn-like stakes around him were all cut in twain, before he was forced to leap away once again, sheathing his small blade as he did so.

With a smirk, Vlad II gestured with a gauntleted hand. More stakes edged ever closer to the airborne archer. Some he blasted away with arrows, and others with a gauntleted hand or armored foot, with a strength that bellied his lean and slender form. Impressive, for an Archer.

In midair, from several of the fragments grew more impaling weapons, arcing straight down towards him. Without even a glance, several arrows flew from his bow, and then turned in midair to intercept!

* * *

As a great explosion of dust and debris filled the air, Karna sped away and back as fast as he could chased as he was by the stakes. It seemed that he could not destroy them, at least, not permanently.

A different tactic would be required, then.

Then out of the corner of his eye… He found himself being shot straight into the air, propelled and pushed forward by the stake, before it inevitably broke, unable to pierce him. More sprung from it, and all were equally unsuccessful, though the managed to keep him immobilized, high in the air.

"Such magnificent and incredible armor!" The Lancer of Black complimented.

Karna looked down, nonplussed, to see that the Servant of the Lance had dismounted, and was now speeding towards him on top of another stake, with his primary spear at the ready for killing.

He got closer. "However, even the greatest armor ever forged could not save you at this range!"

Closer, closer.

There. With a mental command, the stakes holding him, and the one upon which Lancer of Black stood, began to combust. Then, with a quick crack of thunder and a flash of lightning, it seemed as if a nuclear bomb had exploded, so bright was the blast that consumed that portion of the sky. Indeed, the entire are seemed alit with flame.

* * *

As the smoke cleared, Vlad III, having managed to escape the blast in the nick of time, seated himself upon his steed once more, and observed the fallout.

"How very interesting," he said, as the Archer of Red gently floated down to stand upon another one of the stakes that still littered the ground. "It would seem my initial assumption of you was correct. Truly, you are no ordinary Heroic Spirit. Tell me, which heathen deity's disgusting blood runs through your veins?"

In lieu of an answer to his question, the Archer simply asked one of his own, with what was a smirk. "Tell me, do you surrender, Lancer of Black?"

"Whether such a question be in impish jest or deadly seriousness, do not dare to utter such absolute nonsense. As long as I hold within my soul a wish for the Holy Grail, I will never even entertain the very thought of surrendering, especially not to the bastard offspring of a heathen god!"

"Besides," he added, without a hint of mocking in his voice. "Those flames, thunder and lightning, that holy bow, and your armor… just how much longer do you think your magical energy reserves will last, Archer? As such, is it not you who should be surrendering to me?"

Instead of another mocking question, Vlad III was met only with stony silence.

Very well.

Lancer pulled on his reigns, making his steed rear up on its hind legs, before then charging straight through the field of stakes towards the demi-god. "Since you are the ones who have invaded my kingdom and domain, then I shall show you, and all the Red Faction, no mercy!"

Once again, the two champions of Red and Black collided and clashed, and the soundwaves alone reduced everything around them to dust.

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

From her space in the dungeons, Celenike gazed intently at the two images in front of her; one of her sister, fighting against skeletons with a spear and runecraft and curses, appearing to laugh wildly despite the situation she was in; and the other was of Celenike's servant, Cu Chulainn, _her_ Cu Chualinn, currently engaged in a madcap aerial dogfight/ chariot battle with the Rider of the Red Faction, his tattooed face laughing madly with abandon as he clashed time and time again against the other.

Looking back and forth between the two with alternating gazes of anger, envy and lust, the purveyor of curses bit down on her gloved thumb until it bled.

How similar, these two seemed. It was beyond maddening for her….

* * *

The skies were filled, nonsensically, with the clatter of hooves and wheels.

Each Rider bore a few minor wounds, and both were madly grinning, even as they exchanged taunts back and forth.

"What's the matter?! Is this all you got, ya blue haired bastard?! Show me what you're really made of!"

"Screw you, greenie!"

It was like watching two shooting stars playing chicken and bumper cars against the other, with each collision letting loose a mighty explosion of sound, and, above it all, their laughter still filled the air.

* * *

At this point, Kairi was starting to wonder, in between praying fervently to any deity that would listen and/or care to not let him die, how exactly the car had not already exploded/ fallen to pieces.

Having been alerted by Shirou earlier that the red Faction would be invading the Millennia Castle, Saber had been quite eager to participate in the battle. After being contasntly asked to go faster as he drove, Kairi had decided to let the knight take over the wheel, if only to make her shut up. Besides, she had a good rank in riding, like most of her class. What was the worst that could happen?

Why had he not stopped himself? Why?!

Not only did she have absolutely no regard for speed limits, it also seemed that she was having trouble deciding which side of the road to drive on, swerving and streaking left, right, left and right repeatedly.

Of course, that had all been before she had driven them into the active warzone that were the lands around the Millennia Castle, and they were just on the outskirts! Dead homunculi bodies were mixed with demolished golems and creepy things and skeletons. Some she simply ran over, and other times, she swerved to avoid, along with the odd piece of falling, flaming debris. At this point, it was a wonder that the passenger handhold had not already snapped off in his grip, or that the tires had not fallen apart.

"God dammit! I can't believe those bastards started the battle without us! Can you believe that, Master?!"

"N-Nope! But is that really the thing to be thinking about?!"

"You bet your ass it is! Hang on!"

With a slamming of her foot on the break, and a rapid sharp turn to the left, they were now speeding right into the heart of the proverbial storm!"

"Hey! Are you sure you actually have any skill in Riding?!"

She grinned, and it made him more afraid for his bodily safety. "You better believe it! There is absolutely no horse that I cannot master riding! I am a Knight of the Round Table, after all!"

She then managed to somehow make the car do several 360-degree spins to avoid more falling debris, while also still going in a straight line!

He could feel the plastic in his hand begin to strain. "THAT MAY BE THE CASE, BUT THIS ISN'T A FREAKING HORSE! ALSO, STOP TRYING TO GIVE THE MIDDLE FINGER TO THE LAWS OF PHYSICS!"

"Just shut up! I'm already pissed off enough as it is! Being this late to a battle is just simply disgraceful!"

"I should have known giving you the wheel was a terrible idea! This is not how I want to go out!"

She then actually laughed. "I would refrain from speaking any more, Master! You'll probably just end up biting your tongue off!"

Taking her advice to heart, he was not speaking anymore. Instead, he decided to just start screaming in absolute, and wordless, terror.

* * *

 _Hanging Gardens._

As he watched Caster's illusion begin to take slowly take effect over the battlefield, and the Hanging Gardens floated ever closer to the Castle, Shirou felt he needed some fresh air.

With renewed purpose, he strode out of the throne room to the edge of the Hanging Gardens.

Not for the first time, he marveled at the view. How small, and yet still majestic, God's creation looked. As blasphemous as it was to consider, was this how He saw the world he had created?

At the sound of footsteps, he turned to behold Semiramis walking towards him, a casual smile on her beautiful face. "I do hope that you are not thinking about jumping, Master. Things have not gone that badly yet. Even that disgusting little Caster's Phantasms are actually helping, as well as the fact that Saber and her master are about to join the battle."

Down below, more skeletons and watery demons appeared, from nowhere.

She then glanced down to see that his hand was clutching his katana. "Oh, is it simply that even you cannot contain your excitement when the Greater Grail is finally within your grasp?"

She then chuckled. "Just know that if you die, then that means I do as well; and, if I cease to exist, then everything that we have worked so hard for will crumble to dust and nothingness. I do hope you understand that, right?"

Shirou looked at her for a moment, and then chuckled. "Not to worry, Semiramis, I do understand that."

She then saw the katana, clutched tightly in his fist, and smirked. "Then what is it?"

He was silent for a moment.

Semiramis looked at him as if he were crazy. At times, he wondered the same thing himself. She then spoke again. "Master, you are aware that in this sort of War, it is traditionally typical of the Masters to send their Servants to the frontlines, whilst they themselves remain in the rearguard, yes?"

"Yes, I am aware."

"If so, then why are you so dead set on risking your life by entering the battlefield?"

Shirou looked back over the battlefield. "Of late, I have been wondering if all of what I am doing goes against the will of God, and his divine plan. Was my survival a part of that, or merely a random twist of fate?"

"You really should not concern yourself with such thoughts, Master. It is not conducive to a healthy mind."

"Perhaps, but I still have to know, else it will haunt me..."

He then closed his eyes. "As such, my idea is simple; If my plan truly goes against the will and designs of God, than I am guaranteed to be cut down upon this battlefield almost instantly. Were that to happen, that I would accept such a fate without a single complaint, for it would mean that, even after all this time, the Lord has not seen fit to forgive my transgressions.

"However, … What if…" he then smiled and turned to his Servant, actually startling her. " _Yes._ If everything ends going perfectly, then that mans I could continue with my plans, because then I will be safe in the absolute certainly that God himself has given sanction to my plans and actions. Then, I will know that I was correct in my chosen path, and that what I strive for… is just. My wish for the Grail is only to love all, and to heal all. Why else had I briefly detected a Ruler signature, if not to keep me vigilant and to test me? If I can overcome this trial that He has put before me, I will know that God has approved of me, and then, only then, can I be truly sure that nothing can stand in my way!"

Semiramis seemed to have been struck speechless by his declaration. A few moments later, she managed to gather herself and smirk. "So, what you are saying is that, in order to see if your wish is just, you are willing to recklessly fling yourself into the mouth of hell? How utterly incomprehensible to me."

He had to admit, that truly stung a little. "I figured as much. My apologies."

"But, if you are not at least given the chance, then it seems you will be able to move forward, correct?"

Oh? She then looked him dead in the eye. "Very well. It thus seems that I am let with no choice. Fight, Master. Go and fight to your heart's deepest content, but only if you do your utmost to survive this Grail War!"

That was a relief to hear. He then held up his katana, a beautifully crafted weapon that had once belong to a certain one-eyed master swordsman. "Your words are truly touching to hear, Semiramis, and I thank you for them. With this sword, this enchanted Miike Tenta Mitsuyo that the Caster of Red had forged for me, then I will fear no Noble Phantasms. Rest assure, I have no intention of dying this day."

"Good, I would feel most remiss if you did."

"I am glad to hear it. Now, if you would, please deposit me near to Saber of Black's location..."

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

He did not strain against the chains. There was no need. He could feel that he would be released, very soon.

Very dimly, he heard the Caster of Black speak as he waved a hand over his restraints. "Spartacus, can you hear me?"

He grunted in response.

"Very good. I am your master now. Do you understand me?"

It was beyond disgusting to him, this new enslavement, but it seemed that he would be unable to continue existing without his power. "Yes," the Rebel Gladiator said through clenched, grinning teeth.

"Good. I can tell that you hate your current predicament. Believe you me, it's quite distasteful for me as well. The mere thought of entrapping another living being goes against my own guidelines. Do you want to kill me, then?"

"No."

The Caster looked surprised for a moment, and then simply shrugged. "I suppose that is good to hear. Thank you."

Despite actually very much wanting to murder the hypocrite in front of him, especially now that his restraints were being unlocked, and his sword was in his hand, Spartacus felt it best not to attack at the moment.

Despite his appearances… and manner… and insanity, Spartacus was not actually stupid, merely…. _driven._

The Servant of Madness felt that it was his divine duty to remain in this world for as long as he could, so that he could defeat all the oppressors that stood before him and claim the Holy Grail… so that he could destroy it!

The mere thought of letting one person have a wish above all others who held such desires in their hearts was, to his mind, the very definition of injustice and oppression! All those greedy and powerful individuals that had come seeking the Holy Grail had to be thrown down and destroyed!

"Your enemy, the Magus Association, and their Servants of the Red Faction, lie before you, mighty Spartacus. They are the ones that have kept a stranglehold on the secrets of this world. In essence, they are the ones in power."

When the last restrain fell, the courtyard gates were cranked open.

"Are you ready to fight, Spartacus?" the Caster asked.

The Rebel Gladiator looked upon the puny, beautiful man, smiled, and then said one thing.

"To me, the word "wait" does not exist."

Then, he was off. It was time to fight the oppressors once more and tear down their disgusting walls of injustice and oppression!

"Yehhahahahaha! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

* * *

As the mad warrior went laughing and screaming off into the distance Caster, despite himself, let loose a sigh of ragged relief.

How nerve-wracking. Had the Renaissance man not been able to convince the mad brute of who his "true" enemies were, then this Genius would have ended up splattered against the walls in a bloody paste.

Oh well, no use dwelling on what ifs. He then looked up at the sky. He still had an admittedly magnificent flying fortress to deal with.

* * *

Having long ago dismounted, the dagger and bow and arrows of Archer of Red clashed repeatedly against Vlad III's spear and stakes.

Further away, Chiron fought bravely against the blazing Lancer of Black, his Caster-forged halberd somehow standing up to her own mighty spear.

Berserker and Saber of Black kept slashing their way through the throng of demons and skeletons.

All the combatants and observers of the battle did not miss the sudden and strange snowfall that had appeared out of nowhere, or how the Red Faction's strange reinforcements of storybook devils and giants has suddenly appeared from nowhere, though they managed to bludgeon and kill more homunculi and golems with disturbing ease.

From the now slowly stopping car, Kairi stuck out his hand. "Snow? Where did this come from?"

Saber grunted as she leapt out of the vehicle, and into her. "Who gives a crap about this fake stuff? Just stay here!"

Wait, what did she mean by it not being real? It looked and felt real.

Was this some sort of illusion?

In the thick of a battle, a giant rushed up to Saber of Black, swinging down it's club upon his silver head.

He did not move to block, or even flinch, and let the club… pass right through him.

A moment later, the 'giant' disappeared.

Saber continued on his way.

* * *

 _Unknown_

"It's an illusion?" Waver asked the group's Servants.

"Yeah. The snow and the freaky devils and giants. It's all quality stuff, but just as fake as that trickle-down BS that the Colonies are so fond of these days, ya hear me, bro?!" Caster declared with a grin.

The Clock Tower Lord was silent for a moment, rubbing his chin.

"If that is the case, then this may be our chance. We move out at my signal."

Rider grinned. Saber said nothing. Lancer raised their weapons in agreement. Around the table, every gave their agreement.

"Good. Stand ready, everyone."

* * *

Vlad III had to admit that this Archer was superb at close combat. On and on they fought, with spear and stake against dagger and bow and arrow and even fist, neither of which broke before the other.

Suddenly, behind the golden archer leapt the Berserker of Red, whose large sword fell upon him with a great smash, allowing Vlad III to leap free.

As the dust cleared, the Impaling lord was greeted with the sight of the mad Berserker laughing wildly as he swung his sword about. "Yehahahahaha! Behold! For I, Spartacus, shall grant the punishment of death unto every oppressor!"

Then came Archer of Red's voice, expectedly as unharmed as ever. "I see. Please, forgive me for thinking you had betrayed us, Berserker. Instead, you only reverted back to the mindset of your original, rebellious ways. No matter, for even if you two stood with an army, you would all still fall before me."

Even to Vlad III, it did not sound like a boast, merely a fact. Such was the arrogance of the heathen divinities!

With more laughter, the giggling Berserker began storming his way towards the impassive Archer.

A moment later, Vlad III watched as the brute was sent flying, and on fire, from an almost lazy backhand from the Archer of Red.

With the Rebel Gladiator now apparently down for the count, the demigod then turned his polychromatic eyes back towards the king of Wallachia.

A second later, their clash had resumed, as around them, the snow fell.

Truly, were it not for the fact that this was a heathen, Vlad III would have felt honored to be fighting such a great warrior. As it was, he still did, only that was superseded by his desire to spill his heathen blood in God's name!

Unnoticed by either, the immolated pieces and corpse of the Rebel Gladiator began to twitch….

* * *

Yagyu Jubei idly pursued a small group of demons and skeletons that had managed to break off into the forest. A moment later, they lay in pieces on the ground.

Despite never being a man who sought out combat, the Legendary Swordsman was starting to feel a bit bored.

The sniping of twigs underfoot alerted to to the presence of another. For some reason, he felt the need to be on his guard, as the signature it was giving off felt... strange.

The presence soon revealed itself; a young, japanese man with white hair and tanned skin garbed in the trappings of a christian. Jubei's eye was then drawn to the katana the man held in his hand.

"Well, well. This is indeed an honor, Yagyu Jubei," the man said. "The greatest samurai of Japan. I am truly humbled to stand before you."

"You know my name, but I'm afraid you have me at a loss, christian." The One-eyed man replied. "More importunely though, that sword in your hand is most familiar to me. How came you by it?"

The man chuckled. "I thought you would recognize this. How sadly fitting then, that it shall be what defeats you."

A moment later, the magnificently sharp blade of the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo clashed and sparked against the edge of Juuchi Yosamu in a shower of lighting and crimson bloodlust!

* * *

Gordes watched the fight in shock. How was this possible?! That was a Noble Phantasm!

Whatever. His Saber was still sure to win!

* * *

Whoever this strange priest was, he was good.

Clang, Clang, Clang!

Jubei's skills with a sword had long surpassed the pinnacle of what could be defined as humanity. But this priest? He wielded Jubei's former weapon almost like a master.

Though, Jubei felt that it was not really the priest's own skills that are the cause, but something else.

Feint, overhead slash!

Jubei then blocked the cut accompanied by a somersault flip with almost contemptuous ease, before pushing the priest away with pure strength.

The smiling man regained his footing and sped forward with a one-handed underhand cut.

Ten more times did their blades clash and sparks fly!

Suddenly, the priest feinted left, then right, and then, in the split second, left past and away from the Swordsman.

Before he could pursue, a burst of white lightning smashed downwards onto Saber's blade, illuminating the area for a brief moment.

Then, when everything had settled, the priest was gone.

With a shrug, Saber dashed back towards the battlefield, the fight already out of his mind.

* * *

Gordes was left shocked and confused at what had just occurred.

What the hell had just happened? Who was that tanned man? How had been able to keep up with Saber?

What was going on?

* * *

Mordred cut his way through another group of homunculi that had been dumb enough to try and fight him.

Man, all these weirdos in armor and swords and helberds… It reminded him a lot of the good old days, back in the court… before Camlann… NEVERMIND!

Shaking the thought from his armored head, Mordred charged forward. Sadly, there were still nothing but more dumb homunculi!

Where were the other Servants of Black? "Come on!" he screamed. "Someone gives me a fucking challenge already!"

"Then I shall do my best to oblige you, Saber of Red."

A moment later, he found his sword suddenly being blocked by a strange, curved blade. Another moment later, he felt himself go flying back.

Skidding to his feet, Mordred saw his new opponent.

A man with strange, robe-like clothing and armor, an eyepatch, and a curved blade in hand. He looked rather... plain.

"Huh, are you the Saber of Black, one-eye? You don't look like much!"

The opposing Saber's eye narrowed. "I could say the same of you. For all your bluster, Red Saber, you seem to be rather… pitiful."

Yep, this jackass was going to die. "Fuck you! You're going to regret saying that!"

"No. I will not. You, however, are going to die."

A moment later, their blades clashed, and a new soundwave blasted out from the impact.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

An overhead swing was blocked, and then parried into a slash at the knees, followed by three quick stabs at the stomach… their arms and blades were moving so fast, they were but blurs to the naked eye.

Back and forth, the leapt and swung and clashed.

As they fought, Mordred had to admit that this Saber, despite his appearance, was as good as him, slightly.

A second later, Saber of Black's sword managed to slash a cut into his helmet.

Mordred responded with a pommel slam.

Back and forth, these two fought. Back and forth.

Each clash of their blades was like the clamor of planets smashing against one another, their swings still destroying great areas of land, even if they were dodged. Such was their might and power that even a blind and deaf person would have been able to sense the bloodlust emanating from their strokes and slashes.

Riposte and parry, overhead slash, pirouette; leaping dodge, reverse cut, kick to the head, smash with the flat of the blade, blade lock, disengage, repeat… on and on went this dance of battle and death between the two, the Sabers of Black and Red.

After another brief moment of locking blades and testing the other's strength, they parted, both leaping back a great distance from one another. Since the start of the battle, a few more pieces of Mordred's armor had been sliced off, and he was even stating to bleed.

Meanwhile, the Saber of Black had suffered now wounds at all.

"You're really pissing me off, you one-eyed bastard!" Mordred screamed, pointing Clarent at his opponent.

The one-eyed swordsman in simple clothing and armor said nothing in response to the knight's angry shout, and simply raised his own, red-handled, single-edged sword, as a signal that he was ready to continue, his one visible eye visibly narrowing in concentration, and slight disdain.

The lack of a verbal answer served only to raise the masked knight's ire. "Bastard! Just die already!"

With that, the knight's helmet began to collapse upon it's self while merging into his armor, revealing his face to Saber of Black.

With a shout, Mordred raised his tarnished sword, as red lighting and power gathered about its blade, and then rose into a towering inferno of lighting and crimson.

The swordsman's visible eye did not widen in fear or surprise at this. Instead, he simply gripped his weapon with both hands, his form tense, yet relaxed. "So be, it, oh rash and angry knight," he said, his voice audible enough to be heard by his opponent, even among the clatter of the battlefield.

A visible sphere of power then materialized around him, as his sword began to glow and let loose its own tower of strength and bloodlust. Without a word, he settled into the Raito stance, blade at the ready.

"Get ready, Saber of Black!" Screamed the Knight of Treachery, as his blade's power became near blinding, which was soon matched by the equally crimson glow of the Legendary Swordsman's bloodthirsty and impossible katana. The Swordsman with one eye lifted it into a vertical position, ready to lift and slash down.

 **"Clarent…"**

 **"Juuchi…"**

 **"…Blood Arthur!"**

 **"…Yosamu!"**

With a blast that seemed akin to the roar of mighty dragons, the two slashes met in a great and mighty explosion, each propelled by the power of history and legend and myth. The resulting mixture seemed more akin to a minute sun going supernova than anything else.

* * *

If she were being honest, Francisca was starting to get a little bored. They were so close to the Grail, and yet nothing was happening yet. Even the Grad Illusion wasn't really doing much.

Suddenly, one of her familiars swooped in, landed on her shoulder, and whispered in her ear.

Oh? _Really?_ Now that was really interesting.

Oh boy, oh boy! Wait until Caster heard about this!

* * *

Humming a happy little tune, Jack was about finished with her work. It had been a lot of fun.

The fact that said work had involved the ambushing, slaughter, and dismemberment of a battalion of the homunculi soldiers had gotten separated from the main army was of no concern to her what so ever. Neither was the liberal amount of blood splashing her face. Their screams had been so funny to listen to.

She positively squealed in excitement as she finished stabbing the corpse in front of her. "Yes, yes! We knew it! We knew that the people wearing these funny clothes were full of yummy magical energy. So many scraps!"

Still giggling, and without looking, the Demon of Whitehall sliced the golem that had tried to snake up on her into neat little cubes.

After that, she stood up and did a cute little giggle and spin. "Yep, we really are in top form! So much fun!"

Then, all of a sudden, a loud sound echoed through the air, making her jump in fright like a little bunny rabbit.

What was that? Oh yeah, now she remembered! Reaching into one of the deep pockets of her pants, Jack took out the wired little device that mommy had given her, a "phone."

Now, how was she supposed to answer this again? Was it that button-no, now it was not louder! Which was it?

Finally, she pressed the correct button. "Hello. Who is this? Is that you mommy?"

 _"Yep! It's mommy."_

Yay!

 _"I'm so sorry. Did I interrupt your fun?"_

"Nope, not at all! We're actually just about done now, so don't you worry!"

 _"Really? That's wonderful to hear. Were you able to get a proper meal?"_

"Yep. Our tummy is super-duper full now!"

 _"I'm glad to hear it. Can you please hurry back here soon, then?"_

"Um.. actually, we think we should stay here just a little bit longer."

 _"Oh. Okay."_

Oh no! Was mommy upset now?! "B-but, we do want to see you again as soon as we can, mommy! It's just…"

 _"Now don't get so flustered, dear it's fine. Take as long as you need. The new room is going to take a bit more time to get ready, it seems."_

Suddenly, loud laughter and the crack of thunder and flames could be heard and seen, arresting Jack's attention towards the sky, where two large flashes of light kept hitting each other!

 _"Jack? Is everything alright? What was that?"_

"Oh, nothing. It's all good! Talk soon!"

After she hung up, jack was about to leave, when she heard a weird sound, the sound of clapping hands. "Wow! What a wonderful performance! The death, the bloodshed! The stabbing! How delightful!"

In confusion, Jack turned to see someone who had not been there before, a girl with long white hair and a big smile on her face…

* * *

In the midst of all the chaos, Bazett was, oddly enough, having the time of her life!

Her horse was dead, and she had already lost her first spear, and was now fighting with another, as well as her fist and curses and runes. She was high on adrenaline, and covered in blood, guts, dust, and really cold snow!

Right now, she had never felt more alive!

Whenever she could, she would look up at the sky to see her hero and Rider of Red still smashing against each other.

Despite how evenly matched they seemed, Bazett felt dead certain that the Hound of Chulainn would not lose, even if he was up against Achilles himself.

Suddenly, mad laughter filled the air, almost making her miss dodging the swing of a skeleton's sword.

Was that Berserker of Red's voice? If so, why was it coming from what looked like a giant mass of growing tumors?

* * *

As the Hanging Gardens of Babylon drew ever closer to the Millennia Castle, and the 'snows' grew ever more intense, actually making the two armies stumble and slide, The Polymath of Vinci activated the defenses that he had installed around the area.

Great swathes of earth opened up, and from them shot out large blasts of energy, each with the force of a thousand rockets, while from the Castle itself emerged a great flock of larger versions of the clockwork bird that the genius always kept perched on his shoulder.

From the throne room of the flying fortress, Semiramis smirked, and with a wave of her hand, erected a shield around the Gardens that easily stopped the blasts. Then with a second mental command, she returned the gestures tenfold, releasing a swarm of skeletal harpies so numerous that the two forces of flying creatures seemed to block out the skies as they tore at each other!

As they did, the Empress of Assyria, directed energy blasts towards Castle's own large cannons, destroy them in an instant.

Slowly, the fortress floated forwards, until it came to be almost right on top of the Castle….

* * *

It seemed like it had been hours since the Lancer of Black had first engaged the Archer of Red, and still neither were slowing down in the slightest. Around them their personal battlefield was littered with fallen arrows and stakes.

Despite himself, Vlad III was finding this to be most enjoyable. When was the last time he had ever fought an opponent like this?!

Archer sent another flurry of arrows speeding towards the king before leaping back and away.

One row of stakes rose to intercept, while another then erupted in the direction of the fleeing Archer, which he then dodged and promptly immolated.

As the smoke cleared, there was enough of a lull for the two to pause. "Very impressive, Archer of Red! It seems that you are the only one in the entire world who can handle my stakes with such ease! So, for that, I must applaud you! Truly, even one such as you have earned the title of 'hero,' and thus is worthy enough to stand before me, the King of this Land, demi-god."

A small smile seemed to spread across the Archer's pale lips. "Such kind words, even from a foreign king."

He then tilted his head and looked about. "Ah, I think I understand it now. For you, Vlad III, these impaling stakes are not only your offence and defense, but also your demonstration of power, and the terror that your legend caused among the ottomans and the world at large as a vampire, is that not correct?"

"… _What_?"

How dare he, this filthy offspring of a heathen god?!

The Archer continued, unfazed by the anger radiating from Vlad III's armored form. "As such, with these stakes, you have established your domain, your castle, and everything that you feel you should protect. In other words, these stakes are your attempts at creating a new nation, and a new legend outside of what the world knows of you, is that not correct?"

What was this bastard playing at? "What is your game, child of heathen gods? Are you trying to discern my motivations and feelings?"

"Not at all, but let me remind you that, though you are a king, you foolishly charged here ahead of your army, and are now fighting me alone. Is your arrogance and desire to carve a new legend really so grand, King of Wallachia? Or is it that these stakes truly represent your nation, and are ever at your back and call, and thus simply acting at the behest of your people? If that is the case," at this he knocked a new arrow, "then know that, as a heroic spirit, I feel no fear at fighting alone against an entire nation!"

Despite himself, and despite the clear insult to his royal person, Vlad III felt himself grinning a wide, terrible thing of blood. He grinned so wide that he could almost feel the sides of his mouth being to bleed.

As the blood stained his teeth, the king of Wallachia threw back his head and laughed. "Hahahahaha! How very amusing! Your lack of fear at facing the power of this nation, why, I would expect nothing less from any hero who dared to call themselves my foe!"

He then threw out one of his gauntleted hands. "Unfortunately for you, HEATHEN, you have already fallen into my trap!"

Thinking another round of stakes would be sent his way, the Archer preemptively leapt into the air. But, by then, it was too late.

A large mass of stakes suddenly burst their way out of Archer's chest and limbs!

Finally, Vlad III had drawn first blood. The fact that it was the blood of a heathn god's offspring made it even sweeter!

As the Archer fell to the ground, only to be impaled again and again, and then covered with more stakes, the King of Wallachia began to walk towards him. "You were quite wrong about my noble phantasm, Archer of Red. It was never about the stakes themselves, but what they represented."

More divine blood kept flowing. "It is the very concept of impalement that forms the foundation of my Noble Phantasm's true nature. Therefore, as long as you dare to set foot within my domain, you will never be able to escape from this Noble Phantasm!"

At this point, there seemed to be more stake and blood than victim. The king then reached out his hand. "Let us put an end to this, Archer of Red!"

With a final smirk, Vlad III thrust his hand upwards, and from the earth at his feet flew out an endless swarm of crimson and black stakes. The covered the sky in their mass, converged, and then flew right down upon the head the impaled Archer, who had remained silent through the whole ordeal.

This was where a demigod would die!

* * *

Just before the tase of stakes fell upon him, Karna raised his head and whispered one thing. "ओह अग्नि, ओह इंद्र."

* * *

A moment later, with a flash of lightning, everything was suddenly caught in an inferno like a dying star!

Where there had once been stakes, there was now only ash!

Vlad III grit his teeth in rage. That damn bastard! Had the demi-god been simply playing with him this entire time?!

Then, he smirked, as the sight of the unscathed Archer stood before him, his bow at the ready.

How very interesting!

Any further fighting on their half was suddenly interrupted at the sound of Berserker of Red's mad laughter.

How was that brute still alive?

Turning, both Servants watched with a strange fascination as the servant began to expand and distend into a fleshy mass of fangs, eyes, dragon heads, claws, and extra arms. All the while, he kept laughing and screaming as he continued to grow and mutate. "YEHAHAHAHAHA! THIS IS A REBELLION! I LIVE FOR REBELLION, FOR IT IS MY EVERYTHING!"

Having been informed of the Berserker of Red's Noble Phantasm, Vlad then looked upon the Archer of Red with a newfound, and wary, respect.

All that, from just one blow?

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

Despite the fact that there was a flying fortress above the Castle, Darnic's attention had been completely arrested by the image of the battle between Lancer and Archer of Red. Now, however, his gaze was fully upon the expanding Berserker of Red.

This was not good. In fact, this was almost catastrophic. Quickly, he reached out to Caster. _'Caster! Are you aware of Berserker of Red's current status?!"_

 _'Of course, I am!'_

 _'Can you think of a way to contain the explosion?!'_

 _'You better believe it! But for it to even maybe work, we need Saber!'_

* * *

When the dust had settled, both Sabers were still standing, albeit barely.

For Mordred, his armor was almost completely gone, and one eye had blood dripping from it.

For Saber of Black, his simple robes and armor were torn, and blood was running down one arm.

Still, they both stood, glaring at each other as they each breathed heavily.

"How… the hell… are you still alive?!" Mordred asked.

"Because… I am simply better than you, angry knight," the one-eyed man responded, somehow without pride or malice.

Despite how tired he felt, even with a last-minute command seal boost from his Master, Mordred rushed towards the Saber of Black in a rage, Clarent's edge still singing for his blood. "Go to hell, you bastard!" the knight screamed, as their swords clashed once more, and sparks flew. "Just fucking die already!"

"You first."

Suddenly, Mordred felt himself go tumbling head over heels, courtesy of a swift kick to his head from the Saber of Black.

* * *

As the irate Saber of Red rolled away, Jubei could already feel his wounds being to heel, but ignored the sensation.

Truly, despite her blind rage, this knight's prowess in battle was quite admirable. It reminded him of some of the other, similar people that he had fought with, and against, during those twelve long years…

As he prepared himself for another clash, he suddenly heard Caster and Darnic's voices through the Faction link. He did not let it distract him as he parried more of the angry knight's attacks.

 _'What is it?'_

 _'Saber, this is Darnic. We have need of your Noble Phantasm! Berserker of Red is about to go supernova! Caster and I have a plan, but we do need your help!'_

 _'Si! We have to contain the blast! Lancer and I will assist!'_

 _'Understood, but what about my summoner? I do not think that he would look kindly upon my leaving this battle!_

 _'Leave that fool to me. Just go, now!'_

At that, the link terminated. Jubei then suddenly feinted and slashed across Saber of Red's chest. She barely blocked it, and thus was unable, once again, to stop him from punching her head, and then kicking her away.

As she rolled away again, cursing all the while, he turned and sped off toward the bulging and growing mass that was the Berserker of Red, sheathing his red sword, and drawing his blue-handled sword as he did…

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

Gordes was beyond enraged. One moment, he had been watching his Saber engage in glorious combat against the Saber of Red, and then next, he was running away!

"What in the hell are you doing, you eastern savage? Go back! Go back and finish off that Saber of Red!"

When, of course, the Saber did not change course, Gordes ground his teeth so hard it was amazing that they did not rip from their places in his gums.

As he was about to raise his hand to invoke a command seal, he suddenly felt a strong grip clamp down on his arm, _hard_.

It was Darnic, leveling a purple-hued gaze at him. As Gordes quailed un his gaze, the elder spoke. "Before you even think about doing something _colossally_ stupid, Gordes, you will listen to me, and listen well. Saber is, at the moment, an integral part of a plan to make sure that, when Berserker of Red ruptures, the fallout won't take out everything within ten miles of us! So, now, the only thing you are going to do is reinforce Saber with a command seal, and then, you are going to sit down, and do nothing! If you disobey me in this, I will personally deliver you to Celenike's tender mercies. Am I understood?"

Gordes could only nod rapidly in fear.

"Good. Now do as I just instructed."

With a now shaky hand, the arm of which Darnic was still gripping, Gordes did as he was told. "B-by the power of my command Seal, I order your power to increase so that you may successfully help to contain Berserker of Red's explosion!"

As the seal disappeared into a smudge, Darnic let go of him, allowing Gordes to sink into his lush chair with a bit of fear and dejection.

"Good. Now, just stay there."

Without another word, Darnic hurried out of the room.

* * *

Ignoring the situation below and the strange weather as 'it' became a blizzard, the two Rider's continued their strange, deadly dance in the sky.

As they both swerved about, Cu Chulainn decided that it was time for him to try a different tactic.

As the chariots barreled towards each other once more, instead of swerving at the last moment, he whispered to his horses, sped dead ahead towards the chariot. "Liath Macha, Dub Sainglend. An bhfuil do chinn chomh deacair agus a bhí riamh?"

Achilles realized what the Rider of Black was planning, but only responded with another wild grin. "Get ready guys!" he screemd to his three fine horses.

A moment later, the two blazes of light impacted right into each other. As impossible as it seemd, they strained agianst one another in sky as if they were on solid ground, the two constructs kicking off sparks, and the corona of energy surrounding them growing to the inteisnity of sun.

Then, Cu Chulainn suddenly leapt straight off his chariot, and then tackled the Rider of Red straight off his own chariot! As the chariots each dissapated into motes of light,and the two fell through the air, they still kept fighitng, with the clang of spears, and the msah of fists agasint flesh, and they were still laughing, even as they plummeted!

All of this, Bazzett watched, and, with a small bit of worry for her childhood hero, raced towards where it seeemd they would fall, which they did, with two very loud CRASHes!

* * *

Having pushed off from each other at the last minute, Achilles and that damn Rider of Black had fallen seperatly.

Even through Andreias Amarantos, he had felt that. Of course, the fact that Andreias Amarantos was still active, as well as the fact that his neck felt _extremely sore_ meant he had not landed on his heel.

With a groan, he rose out of the crater, cracking his neck as he did so, and seeing that damn Rider doing the same, a small circle of runes temporarily glowing about him, before disappearing.

Right… on to round two!

Before they could begin, however, a young woman with short red hair and torn armor suddenly leapt in front of Rider of Black, in a fighting stance.

That… that was not good in his book. It was not that he was against women warriors, far from it, it was just that… after _her_ , he could never fight another woman again.

Luckily, a silent order then echoed in his head. Masking his emotions with a cocky grin, Achilles gave the pair a wave. "Hey, sorry to cut this short again, but I've got to go. Master's orders, ya know? Till next time, Rider of Black!"

Before he left, he heard the enemy Rider burst into laughter. "Hahaha! Fucking yeah, we will. Also, for giving me such a good fight, the name's Cu Chulainn, Achilles! Till next time!"

Cu Chulainn? The Hound of Chulainn, and the son of the god Lugh?! That was who he had been fighting?! FANTASTIC! That explained how he had been able to by-pass Andreias Amarantos' defense.

With a final laugh, Achilles summoned his chariot once more, and flew off.

* * *

Upon Darnic's frenzied link message, Vlad III had, reluctantly, broken off his battle with the Archer of Red to try and help contain the blast of Berserker of Red.

It seemed as the brute was still expanding, and growing madder by the second, if that were possible **. "Yes! Yes! Death to all oppressors! Let my love destroy all those who would dare tread upon the defenseless masses! I am near to bursting with love! Let it all wash around and over you, oppressors, until you choke and drown in it! Hahahahahahaha!"**

Vlad watched as a huge hand made of dirt and rock suddenly reached out of the ground and envelop the fleshy, pulsating mass completely.

The mound then began to start shaking and cracking.

Not a second later, Lancer piled on layer after layer after layer after layer of glowing stakes, until the mass resembled nothing less than a very spiky egg-like object.

It still did not seem like it would be enough, as it kept shaking, and glowing energy began to seep through.

Then, it began to crack again. As it did, all heard Berserker's final exclamation, " **THE TIME HAS COME! THIS BLOW WILL DESTROY EVERY FORM OF OPPRESSION AND CRUSH ALL WHO HOLD AUTHORITY IN THIS LAND! THIS. IS. SPARTACUS! CRYING WARMONGER!"**

The moment Saber arrived, the egg about burst into a massive, all-encompassing inferno. As it did, Saber's sword glowed blue, and he shouted out its name. **"** **YAWARAKAI-TE!"**

The minute his sword touched the expanding nimbus, the blast seemed to all dissipate into and through the glowing blade, as the blue glow then enveloped the radius of the explosion. As they touched, the sight of everyone looking at the blast temporarily turned white from blindness, even if it was through an image transmission, and all audible things turned to nothing more than a high-pitched whine. Even Vlad III felt the need to shut his eyes against it.

Meanwhile, the main armies kept fighting, with Chiron doing his best to fend off the attacks of Lancer of Red.

One minute passed, then two, then three, and then, after what seemed like an eternity, the white faded, and the whine subsided, to reveal a jaw dropping sight; A massive crater was formed where Berserker of Red had been. Standing right in front of it was Saber. Even with the benefit of a reinforcing command seal and the homunculi system, Vlad III found it a wonder that the hero was even still standing.

Both his arms were bleeding profusely and were as black as coal. His robes and armor from the waist up had all been blown off, revealing the swordsman's lean and scarred physique to the world, which also now bled freely from a dozen new wounds and ruptured blood vessels and burns.

He was breathing heavily, and his sword, which remained intact, somehow, was smoking at the tip.

With shaky movements, the Saber sheathed his blade, while a blue glow settled about him, and then slowly faded into astral form. The Servant of the Sword would survive, it would seem, but, for now, he was out for the count, as the saying went.

* * *

Despite Caster of Black's best efforts, The Hanging Gardens of Babylon were now floating directly overhead the Millennia Castle.

With a smirk, Semiramis activated the tractor beam…

* * *

Chiron was beginning to think that he would lose this battle. Despite his many talents, spear fighting had not been one of his better ones, and, also, the Lancer was as superbly adept at hand to hand as he was!

After she managed to batter him away, he found himself being helped to his feet by several homunculi soldiers, while blood crusted one of his eyes, and other wounds and burns bled freely. Meanwhile, the Lancer slowly advanced.

Chiron looked about him. The 'snow' had turned into a 'blizzard.' The forces of Black were losing. They were being overwhelmed by things both real and fake.

Before he could sound a retreat, however, the ground began to shake…

* * *

With a sigh of relief, Bazett and Rider shook themselves of the multitude of dust, debris, and hearing loss that had resulted from the explosion of Berserker of Red.

Once they could hear, Bazett suddenly smacked him across the head. "Ow! The fuck was that for, woman?!"

"Why the fuck did you just tell him your true name, idiot?!"

"Why the heck not?! He nearly killed me several times tonight, and I him! It seemed only polite!"

For a bit, they argued, though there was no real malice behind it. Then, they both took each other in; bloodied, clothes torn, and skin bruised.

A moment later, they both suddenly burst into laughter. What a great fight!

As they gave each other a happy hug, Celenike watched them with anger from her room, and then stood up.

Then, the ground then began to shake!

* * *

Caules began to panic. He had been watching Asterios batter aside skeletons and demons when, suddenly, the castle began to shake. Oh no! He had to get to Fiore…

* * *

Gordes had to grab at his chair. What in blazes….

* * *

"Get to safety Roche!" Da Vinci screamed.

* * *

Darnic rushed as fast as he could through the shaking castle. Impossible! Could they…

As he approached the cavern, his worse fears were confirmed.

It was here, within this cavern, where he had placed the Great Holy Grail; a massive orb of stone, and within it could be seen the bas-reliefs of three beautiful women who looked the same. In his idle moments examining it, he had noted how similar they had looked to that homunculus he had killed, all those decades ago in Fuyuki….

Now, however, the orb was rising into the air, and through the solid bedrock above it.

Despite himself, the head of the Yggdmillennia marveled at the sheer impossibility of what was happening. Never could he have imagined that Red Faction would have the ability to pull such a thing off.

He considered the situation before him. It seemed that, despite all his preparations, Yggdmillennia was now backed into a corner. Everything that he had built was at the risk of crumbling to pieces.

But, he had faced many such obstacles in the past century of life. This would not be the first, and certainly not the last, but, like all the others, he would weather it.

He watched as the glowing orb lifted into the open air, and then decided.

The other servants were either too far away or too wounded to get near, so, it seemed he would have to do this himself…

* * *

The observer watched with admiration as the glowing orb sailed into the air.

Hmmm.

Well this was most definitely an interesting development. It seemed he would have to investigate...

* * *

 _Unknown_

"Now!" El-Melloi II said.

* * *

As the orb rose into the air, a plethora of golden portals suddenly opened up, and from them burst many mighty weapons, as if fired from a Gatling gun, then there was the crack of thunder, and boisterous laughter.

Around the floating orb, more golden portals blossomed, and from them shot long coils of chains. Oddly though, they failed to wind around the Grail, almost as if something were defending the Wish-Granting Machine from more ensnarement.

* * *

From the throne room, Assassin could not help but burst out laughing as the Great Holy Grail sailed into the Hanging Gardens. This was too funny.

Sure, the golden portals and laughing madmen and useless chains had come out of nowhere, but still, things were looking positively great!

Footsteps alerted her to Shirou's return.

"Greetings, Master. I see that you have survived. Do you feel content, now that we hold the Grail? Do you think your God has given you His blessing, seeing as how you were not struck down upon the battlefield?" the Empress asked.

Shirou gave her a smile. "For now, it would seem so. Well done. My mind is now at ease."

"Yes, though, it would seem we have picked up an unwanted guest." She then pulled up an image of Darnic Yggdmillennia, running through the halls of the Gardens.

The smile upon Sirou's face widened a bit at the familiar face. "Well, well. Now this is a pleasant surprise."

"Should I let the defenses take care of him?"

"No need. In fact, let us help him find his way to the Grail. I will deal with this one... personally."

It seemed that God had put one more test before him. This one, however, should be easy to deal with...

* * *

As Chiron's wounds finished healing, he looked up in horror and wonder at these strange new developments.

Lancer of Red and the other forces of the Red Faction had slowly backed him and Berserker and the remnants of the homunculi into a corner and had been slowly approaching.

A second later, she and the others had suddenly been smashed aside by a large chariot being driven by a large, laughing man in red. Meanwhile, those strange golden portals began raining down death in the form of beautiful, shining weapons onto the forces of Red, as well as their own!

He had no idea what was happening, but it seemed best to cut their losses.

"Retreat!" he yelled. "Regroup and fall back!"

What in Tartarus was going on?!

* * *

As he dashed through the fortress, it should have registered to Darnic's mind that something was wrong. He was encountering no defenses, none of the other servants, nothing.

But it did not register at all. The only thing he could think about was retrieving his Holy Grail! As he ran, the thing beneath his shirt began to glow.

Suddenly, a trap door opened beneath his feet, and he was sent tumbling through a long tube.

A moment later, he found himself deposited in a large antechamber, and... there!

There it was, the Holy Grail.

Wait, now this was too easy!

Then, the sound of measure footsteps echoed through the chamber.

"Darnic Yggdmillennia."

Why did that voice sound so familiar? The glowing thing beneath Darnic's shirt began to flash in an erratic tempo. Then, the owner of the footsteps came into view... wait, what?

"Impossible!" Darnic cried out. "How are you still alive?!"

The man, no, the Servant, chuckled. "A strange question, coming from a man who has not aged a day in over eighty years."

In lieu of a responce, Darnic's mage circuits glowed with reinforcement, and he charged towards the smiling priest, his own features contorted in rage.

The smiling man almost lazily blocked all his blows, then threw a punch to Darnic's chest that sent him skidding back. Remarkably, the magus still managed to remain on his feet.

"You know," the Servant said, "the most frequent rumor that I heard about you over the decades is that you had resorted to eating souls to stay alive. But, that is not true, is it?"

As he spoke, he looked at Darnic's chest. That last blow had shredded the magus' shirt, revealing the glowing thing underneath to the world; a glowing gemstone the color of blood, and the size of a fist, embedded in the center of his chest. It was surrounded by sickly veins, and was actually pulsating, like a heart.

"Ah, I see. It was the Caster of the last War, wasn't it?"

Darnic then began to laugh. he did not really know why, but he just felt the urge to do so. "Correct, _Ruler!_ That fool had been most obliging. It had almost been a pity to kill him and his master! But, thanks to his generosity, I survived, and now, I will win!"

The gemstone glowed, and suddenly, Darnic almost vanished, before reappearing behind the former Ruler.

This time, Darnic was not so easily battered aside. With a blade of pure energy in his hand, he pushed against Shirou's katana with unforeseen strength.

"I sacrificed everything for this! I even allied myself with the monsters that hunted my people to near extinction! All for the chance at the Grail, and not you, or anyone will stand in my way!"

The fight lasted much longer than expected, with Darnic aquitting himself surprisingly well. Despite it all, though, he was still only human, and Shioru was still a Servant.

A moment later, three Black keys had embedded themselves in Darnic's chest and spine, and sent him crashing to the floor.

As he lay bleeding out on the floor, Shirou gave him a bow. "A most impressive fight, Darnic Yggdmillennia. I will be sure to remember it well."

* * *

Darnic ignored the priest's words, and instead tried to scrape and drag himself towards the grail. He was so close! This could not be how it ended! He had to win! He was so close...

* * *

A second later, Darnic's head had already been severed from his shoulders.

As the blood spilled out, Shirou failed to notice the three seals on Darnic's hand glow, and then vanish...

* * *

On the ground, Vlad III had once again managed to engage the Archer of Red in combat. Though Lancer's armor was slowly starting to fail, he kept fighting! By the grace of God, he would win!

Suddenly, a cold chill lanced through his being!

As he stumbled, Archer stopped. So, he could tell as well.

With a sigh of resignation, the King of Wallachia watched as he began to slowly dissipate. It seems even the homunculi system was not enough to keep a servant anchored to this world, once their master was dead.

For a brief moment of a moment, he considered using his connection to the land to feed on the souls of his people... no. He would not lower himself to that level.

He was not a vampire!

With a sigh, he dematerialized his weapon. "So, it would seem that my time in this world has ended."

"It would appear so, King of Wallachia. For what it was worth, it was a most excellent battle."

Vlad III smiled kindly at that. "Thank you for those kind words, Archer of Red."

His legs were already gone. "Before I go, may I ask your true name, Archer of the Red Faction."

"Karna."

"Karna. A fine name for a strong warrior."

As the Son of the Dragon finished dissipating into dust, and returned to the Throne of Heroes, his last thought was how glad he was to not have been forced to use that disgusting Noble Phantasm...

* * *

As Shirou stared at the body, he then heard the sounds of clapping. "Most well done, good sir. Well done indeed."

The Former Servant turned in surprise to see an unfamiliar man walking into the room.

He was dressed in an overcoat, with several odd-looking wooden appendages sticking out from a device around his waist, as well as a cane he gripped in his hand.

"Oh my. How did you get up here? Are you that Ruler signature that I briefly felt earlier?"

The new arrival chuckled. "You would be correct, and as for how I got up here... well, I have my methods. Now, as for why I'm here..."

"Oh, so you have a quarrel with me then, Ruler who I have never met before?"

"Of course, for you are breaking the rules of this Grail War. I can tell that you have a wish, else you would not have gone to such great lengths to attain this Grail. As you should be aware, members of our Class are not allowed to hold such a thing in our hearts. Though, in your particular case, I suppose it was the result of that irregular summoning of yours from the last War, correct?

The Youthful Saint's face looked shocked at the accusation, before his smile returned, only now with a decidedly dangerous and disingenuous bent to it. "So, you figured it out, Ruler."

"Indeed, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada," the Ruler of the Great Holy Grail replied, as he settled into a fighting stance, his cane at the ready.

The Ruler of the Third War raised the katana in his hand. "Now that is a name I have not heard in very a long time."

"Yes. Eighty years, if I'm not mistaken."

"Really? Tell me, how did you figure that out?"

"Firstly, there is the obvious fact that you are here, attempting to fight me. Any magus worth their salt would know that any sort of Servant, even one with an E in very stat, can still tear them apart with ease. Being here means you are either a foolhardy battle maniac, a magician, or a Servant yourself. Since you do not strike me as being the first, and you are most definitely not the second, then it stands to reason that you too are a long dead hero.

"Next, there is your accent. Though nearly gone due to the last Eight decades, such a thing cannot be entirely hidden to a trained ear, and your words carry within them, even in a universal tongue, the hint of a distinct linguistic style, most common to the region of what is now known as the Nagasaki prefecture, where you lived and died. That, of course narrowed down your identity considerably, at least to a margin of 265 years, and to a smaller geographic area, especially since you are without a doubt Japanese.

"The fact that you are also, without a doubt, Catholic, as shown by your current garb and gold cross, lessened the possibilities as well, since, despite being visited by Portuguese missionaries since the late 16th century, the Island Nation's history is not exactly rife with prominent catholic figures, as well as the fact that you treat this faith as something you were born into, rather than converted towards, due to how proudly you display your aforementioned sign of faith, and also evidenced by the quaint little chapel I saw on the way here.

"Next, there is your apparent age. Most heroic spirits, Class specificities aside, are summoned into what is considered their prime, which is usually about the age when they died, or their legends were solidified into myth. Physically, you are no older than seventeen, which was the age at which you were executed, and your head mounted on a spike."

The Ruler than gestured all about him. "Finally, there is the fact that you managed to accomplish all of this and had counterplans in place for Darnic Yggdmillennia's own. Since that man had spent eighty years preparing for this War, it stands to reason, then, that only someone with the same amount of time would be able to conjure up a scheme potent enough to counterbalance the Master of Black's own.

"Ergo, you can be none other than the Youthful Leader of the failed Shimabara Rebellion of 1638, and the irregular Ruler of the Third holy Grail war of Fuyuki."

Shirou was silent for a moment, and then chuckled. "You're not an ordinary Ruler, are you?"

"Really? Tell me, how did you figure that out?"

In lieu of a response, Shirou attacked, the blade of his Miike Tenta Mitsuyo eager for blood...

* * *

Bazett and Rider watched as the chariot of lighting and the golden portals kept demolishing the forces of the Red and Black factions. Then, the golden portals stopped firing, and they and the chariot suddenly vanished.

Had that been part of that weird snow illusion?

Then, through the link, they all felt the deaths of Darnic and Lancer.

Following that, the remaining Forces of Red, including the flying fortress, suddenly began to retreat, while the snow and the giants and devils faded away.

"What's happening?" Bazett asked as they watched. "Shouldn't we be chasing after them?"

"Normally, yes, but right now? Lass, Our Saber's out of commission for the time being, we've just lost Lancer, and the rest of our army seems in no fit shape to fight! I know this sounds strange coming from me, but at the moment, we have to regroup."

She could see the wisdom in the Child of Light's words, and nodded.

With that, they slowly began to make their way across the quieting battlefield, and mac towards the Castle.

As they did, Bazett looked about at the mounds of dead homunculi and demons and skeletons and crushed golems. Despite herself, it all looked rather... sad. This great battle, and, in the end, they had still ended up losing.

But, that was war, she supposed.

Rider must have seen the expression on her face. "Don't worry, lass. We'll get them."

As they got closer, the two saw, in the distance, the remnants of the army of Black making their back towards the castle as well, tired and beaten. What a sad sight.

Then the sound of nearby footsteps shook them from their musings, and they looked up in surprise.

It was Celenike.

"Master?" Rider asked. Why was she even out here?

More importantly, why was she grinning?!

Bazett remembered that damn grin well, from her nightmare of a childhood. "What do you want, Celenike?"

The evil woman's smile grew wider. Almost instinctually, Rider and Bazett settled into stances.

"Rider," the spectacled woman suddenly said. "Remind me what your true name is."

Huh? Reluctantly, the Child of light answered. "My name is Cu Chulainn, the Hound of Chulainn."

"WRONG!"

The sudden outburst set Bazet and Rider on their toes.

Celenike continued. "What you are, _Setanta_ , is nothing more than a servant! An inferior copy of the heroic spirit, Cu Chulainn!"

"The fuck are you babbling about?" Hero of The Ulster cycle asked, his eyes narrowing at her casual use of his birth name.

Instead of answering, Bazett and Rider both watched in slight horror as Celenike began to suddenly scratch and grip her scalp so tightly that it was starting to bleed! "Because you are a mere copy," she said, as she continued to scratch, "I honestly have never once thought of you as Setanta at all! You're just my Servant! My Minion. MY TOY! THE BOTH OF YOU!"

The blood continued to seep out, and she was actually beginning to shake. Almost instinctually, Bazett backed up, and was starting to slightly tremble, which did not go unnoticed by Rider, who then steeped protectively in front of his friend. "I really think you should calm down, Master!"

She ignored him and continued to rant. "Yet, despite that, you still ignored me, and chose to spend time with her! The spare, the thing that should never have existed! All she was ever good for was stress relief! HER! The thing that should have been suffocated in the cradle! HER! You embarrassed me without end, and gave me nothing but shame, and all because of HER!"

Bazett then spoke up, despite her trembling. "Screw you! Cu Chulainn may be a Servant, but he doesn't belong to you. He's a hero! But you're too much of a twisted bitch to even care."

"Hey Bazett, thanks for the support, but you should really get out of here!"

But, for once, Bazett did not listen, too full of anger at the sibling who had terrorized her for much of her childhood. "I'm not the one who should have strangled in the cradle, Celenike. It should have been you!"

Suddenly, Celenike made a gesture, and, out of some of the scars on Bazett's back and limbs sprouted dark, poisonous looking veins. They pulsed, and the younger woman fell to the ground, screaming and writhing in agony.

"Bazett!"

Before he could skewer the witch with Gae Bolg, her hand was already up. "You will not harm me, Cu Chulainn!"

The seal glowed, and the crimson spear stopped several inches from her demented eyes, which she lightly pushed aside. "When we were young, I used to play with Bazett a lot. Even as she screamed for me to stop, I didn't. We would just have so much fun, the two of us! So many curses that I used on her, as well as taking her purity!

No matter how hard he tried, the Child of light could not even wrap his hands around the bitch's neck, while his friend continued to scream.

"Stop it!"

She ignored his plea, and continued. "One of them was a fun one. A gestating curse that could activate at my command. I never used it before, until now. To be honest, I had almost forgotten about it."

As Bazett kept screaming, Celenike looked down on her sister. "Pest should be exterminated. But it's beneath a master to do it her self. Of course, that is why I have a minion!"

She held up her hand again. "With my second command spell, I order you to kill my sister!"

No, no, no!

With every fiber of his being, the Hound of Chulainn fought against the command. To his credit, he had yet to move, so great was his willpower. Unfortunately, he did not know how long he could keep this up, even with his magic resistance!

Even as she writhed, Bazett somehow managed to stop screaming, and, through the pain, glared up at her sister, and spoke. "Stop.. talking!"

At the look in her eye, Celenike then walked past her struggling servant, towards her sibling as he lay on the ground.

Bazett continued speaking. "I'm... not... afraid of you, you bitch!"

A moment later, Celenike began to stomp on her, hard.

All Rider could do was watch as he kept trying to resist the Order. "STOP IT, DAMN YOU!"

"Shut Up! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP! All my life, I hated you, Bazett! I AM THE HEIR OF THE FRAGAS AND THE ICECOLLES! NOT YOU, SPARE! YOU'RE JUST EXTRA FLESH, MY PLAYTHING! BUT YOU COULDN'T EVEN BE THAT, COULD YOU?! USELESS THINGS LIKE YOU SHOULD JUST DIE!"

On and on, she stomped, and Rider could do nothing. Despite it though, Bazett was actually laughing!

Through a bloody mouth, Bazett spoke, spitting at her sibling at she did. "If... you..were... really... the heir, then.. how come... only I can use _it..._ and not _you_?"

That question made Celenike pause, and withdraw her foot. She then turned to her struggling Servant, and gave a serene smile. "Rider. I want you to rape my sister. As you do so, I want you to crush her legs and arms. Then, once that is done, rip off her head. Of course, make sure that you do all this as slowly as possible!"

"N-never!" he choked out.

Celenike chuckled. "Have it your way. With my final command seal, I order you to..."

She never got the chance to finish.

A moment later, the arrow sliced clean through her neck, making a torrent of blood wash over the stunned Bazett and Rider.

Where had that come from?

* * *

From the shadows of the trees, the Golden archer shook his head, and lowered his bow.

"Mongrel."

He then disappeared into a golden portal...

* * *

Bazett watched in stunned silence as her sister's now headless corpse collapsed, and the curse that flooded agony through her vins the dissipated.

For a long moment, she stared at the decapitated body. Then, finally dawned on her. She was free. She was free!

Standing up gingerly with a groan, Bazett began to laugh. Finally! it was over!

Then, she stopped laughing she saw that Rider had fallen to his knees, and was starting to dissipate. "Rider!"

He looked up at her, and smiled. "Thank Lugh. You're alright. You're free."

"Yeah, but what about you?"

He looked down at himself, and chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Guess I was lower on power then I thought. Looks like it's the end for me."

"No. I refuse to let that happen! We're both free of her now! This isn't fair!"

"Heh. No offence Bazett, but what can you do? Last I checked you don't have... what the?"

Following his suddenly widening eyes, Bazett looked down, and bulled off her right glove. There, standing out against the other tattoos were three proudly glowing black seals, wrought in the shape of a wolf's head clutching a crescent moon in its jaws.

She and Rider then both grinned.

With a firm stance, despite her injuries, Bazett Fraga Icecolle Ygddmillennia held her hand over Rider's head. "Will you form a pact with me, Rider of Black?"

He laughed outloud. "You better believe it!"

With another grin, Bazett began to chant, and a golden glow surrounded the still-kneeling Hound of Chulainn.

 _Hear me!_

 _Let silver and steel be the essence.  
Let the stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation  
Let Black be the color that I pay tribute to.  
Let a wall be raised against the wind that shall fall.  
Let the four cardinal gates close.  
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate._

 _I hereby declare.  
Your body shall serve under me.  
My fate shall be your Lance.  
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.  
If you will submit to this will and this reason…then answer!_

 _An oath shall be sworn here!  
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.  
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!_

 _From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,  
come forth from the ring of restraints,  
Protector of the Holy Balance!_

The Glow then faded, and Rider of Black, now the Servant of Bazett Fraga Icecolle Yggdmillennia stood up, refreshed and rejuvenated.

With a shared grin, the two the bumped fists. "Master," he said. "You've just won this Holy Grail War."

Bazett chuckled at that. Then, a second later, the grin still on her face, she collapsed...

* * *

Neither Servant was too proud to admit that they were more than easily matched by the other. Their weapons intercepted the other's without ever making a wound. Back and forth, and on and on they traded blows.

The man's punches alone seems almost like a Noble Phantasm themselves!

"You are quite good, Ruler of this War," Shirou said, as they leapt away from one another.

"Indeed, and I find your skills to be superb as well, Youthful Saint," the second Ruler replied.

"Yes. Such a pity that you have come here to stop me."

"Perhaps, but life often makes us do uncomfortable things, nor does it end the way we hope, as you should be well aware."

The sound of clattering footespts and slapping flesh then filling the air, as a small host of watery demons and Dragon teeth-Warriors filled the room.

Shioru chuckled. How very strange of the Empress to be worried about him.

"I am sorry, my fellow Ruler, but it seems that you are surrounded. Right now, there is no way for you to stop me."

The Servant seemed to process Shirou's words, and then, to the latter's shock, chuckled. "If that is the case, then I no longer have a reason to be here. My apologies. I shall now be taking my leave. Till next we meet."

Suddenly, he vanished.

"Semiramis, can you detect him anywhere?" Shirou asked.

From all around, the Empress gave her reply. "No. That bastard seems to have disappeared off the face of the World itself! He could be anywhere by now! Should we still try to pursue?!"

Despite that troubling news, Shirou simply grinned and shook his head. "No need. As he is now, he cannot stop us. Recall everyone to the fortress. We have our prize. Now, it's time to leave."

"Very well."

Despite himself, Shirou kept smiling.

After all, when did God ever make things easy for him?

He then looked up to see Francisca and Caster walking into the room. "Hey," the female asked. "Wow, is that a headless Darnic, and the Holy Grail? What did we miss?"

Shirou looked at them, and smiled. "Nothing that you need to worry about, my friends. Nothing at all."

* * *

As the Servant materialized onto the ground, he watched as the Red Fortress slowly began to sail away.

As he watched, he idly withdrew a pipe from his long coat, lit it, and then began to puff away.

Hmm... Perhaps it was time to investigate the other factions...

* * *

As they drew ever closer to their goal, the goddess looked back upon her new captains with love and pride.

The first had once been a goddess, like she was now, only this one had been cursed and hated and pitied by humanity, her petrifying gaze eventually turning her into a monster.

The second had, in life, been a poor soul of rust and iron, who had only thought to save everyone, but had instead ended being hated and betrayed by them, for the bodies had just kept piling up, and shattered his already damaged mind. In a way, she could relate.

The third was once a gentleman, with a great fondness for crime.

The fourth was one who had longed to be perfect, and but never could be, and so became bother lesser and more for it.

There were others, each hungering for her love, and made better through it.

Of course, her captains did not just consist of long dead heroes, like her and Gilles. No, for there were now others who counted themselves among her new army, drawn to her by the call and promise of her love, and then elevated, as Gilles had been, with her love.

There was the empty priest; the broken man with bloody hands; and, of course, the dollmaker.

All of them, alongside her and Gilles, were almost ready.

She had her general, and now her captains, by her side.

 **Find the tower and the cup, our goddess. Find them, and then our love can be spread.**

All that was now needed, once she had her army, was to find and open the tower's gate, and then drink from the cup…

* * *

 **A/N As I have said, I am not the greatest at writing out battle and fight scenes. Truth be told, this took too long to write, and may not be very good, and is probably too long as is.** **Still, read, review, and enjoy.**

 **A/NN Made some changes. Will cut down on Bazett and Rider's cussing. It's a bad stereotype, and I do apologize.**

 **A/NNN Made some more minute changes. Like False Caster in Fate/Strange Fake, I am changing the plot a little.**

 **A/NNNN: To the** **guest who is disappointed with Caster of Red…. I understand. I have just made a few changes to this chapter, involving his illusionism, as per your critique. However, keep in mind that this story is not yet over. I am doing my best. The details involving the deal between him and Shirou will be given, and I am trying to add more depth to the other Servants of Red… I really am.**

 **I apologize for all the changes. I am doing my best.**


	6. Chapter 6

Blood, Obsidian, Ocean Chapter 6

Reika was starting to get a little worried. It was one in the morning now, and Jack still had not come home. What was taking her sweet daughter so long? Reika hoped that she was all right.

On a happier note, their new house was already prepared. The trash, which Jackie had been so good in helping her cut up (really, there had been no reason for them to have been screaming so loud), was already wrapped up in bags in the downstairs freezer, and Jackie's room was now all ready.

She had not noticed when her command seals had shimmered for a moment.

Suddenly, the former prostitute heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet upon the wooden floor. A moment later, her daughter was standing in the doorway.

Reika rushed and knelt to give the little serial killer a big warm hug. "Jackie! What took you so long, sweetheart? I was getting so very worried."

Her little girl returned the hug with gusto. "We're sorry mommy. It's just that something very amazing happened to us. We met a very nice person."

"Now Jackie, what have I told you about talking to strangers?"

"We know… 'Cut them up, but don't talk to strangers.' But mommy, this was different! This person gave us a nice gift, and we want to share it with you!"

"Really?"

"Yep, yep, yep!"

As she spoke, Jackie briefly pulled away from Reika and gave a great big smile. Something was glinting in her mouth….

"With it, we can have lots of fun!"

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

It was a sad scene that greeted the eyes of Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia, as the homunculus maid wheeled her into the meeting room.

She had watched, two days ago, as the tired remnants of the Black Army had dragged themselves back into the courtyard. Chiron and Berserker had entered, blood still dripping from several wounds, and grim expressions on their faces.

Those same expressions could now be seen on the remaining Servants and Masters.

Aunt Bazett, though back on her feet thanks to a few healing runes from Rider, was still not fully recovered, and thus, alongside a sling for her arm, had to gingerly move about with a cane.

They were only meeting now because the past two days had been filled with damage control and clearing away debris from the now partial wrecked Castle.

Fiore scanned the room once more, took a deep breath, and then spoke. "Since we are all still worn down from the events of the previous night, then I suggest we get right to business.

"Caster, what is the current status of our resources?"

Caster and Roche had been up well past dawn, and into the late morning hours, cataloguing the damage. The Servant of the Spell adjusted his spectacles and began to read from the lists in his hands. "Of our army, less than half remains. Two-thousand-odd Cavalry; three-thousand-odd infantry; Five-hundred-odd archers, and three-hundred-odd spellcasters, along with only 1,500 golems."

He flipped to another report. "The homunculi nursery sustained heavy damage during the grail's extraction. Over half of the battery tanks were either shattered or outright destroyed beyond repair. Some of the homunculi within them were able to be saved, but the rest were, for lack of a better term, 'stillborn.' As for the ones that were retrieved…."

* * *

 _Malformation of organ tissue… collapsed lungs… complete lack of brain activity… survivability outside the tanks…. a few hours at best…._

 _He turned to the next one, as Roche and Francisca directed the retrieval efforts. It was more of the same…_

 _The Artist had always tried to find beauty in things… sometimes, like now, it was just hard…_

* * *

The Caster rubbed at his eyes. "…Suffice to say, many of them don't have long to live."

Flip. "The other tanks and their contents are still intact. However, the power generators also sustained heavy damage. They can be repaired, and we are already hard at work doing so, but it will still take a few days at least, leaving us with only minimal backup. As it is now, at half-capacity, the homunculi system will be burnt out if we are forced to engage in another prolonged multi-servant battle. At best, the system can still sustain three, and in temporary conditions, until it is fully repaired. Until then, we will have to rely on the normal way of powering Servants, and thus, limits the heavy usage of Noble Phantasms, including my own."

While that would not be a problem for her, Bazett, and Gordes, and even Roche, Caules and Berserker would be worse off, since, by himself, her little brother could barely support the bull of Minos' mana requirements. Though, it was fortunate that Berserker also had a high skill in Independent Action, like Rider. Thus, it seemed that Berserker would only be used when absolutely needed.

He then put down the papers and looked straight at Fiore. "In summation, Lady Forvedge, our situation, while not dire, is also not great. It is going to take us a good bit of time to recover completely."

And every moment that they spent on that, the Red Faction got further and further away with its pilfered prize.

Everyone then looked towards her in askance.

She sighed. "Thank you. As it is now, I believe it best if we focus on rebuilding. We can only venture out to Trifas if necessary. If not, then we all stay here."

Plus, there was the fact that Assassin was still unaccounted for.

She then lightly clapped her hands, signaling the meeting to be at an end. "I thank you for the reports. We better get back to work now."

Chiron then wheeled her out, and she let out a breath. "Fiore? Is everything alright?"

His question briefly startled her. "Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

She did not see the worried expression on his face as he wheeled her along down the hallway.

* * *

 _The Hanging Gardens of Babylon_

The flying fortress, one of the seven lost wonders of the world, lightly sped through the air towards the horizon. Underneath it, the lands of Europe were becoming naught but a blur.

Among the Servants of the Red Faction, at least Rider and Lancer, the air was that of confusion, especially once a strange feeling had lanced its way down their spines.

What had happened back there? Why had they stolen the grail?

More importantly, why couldn't they feel the connection to their masters all of a sudden?

With determination in their steps, the couple marched into the throne room, to be met with Caster, Francisca, Shirou, and Semiramis.

The priest was smiling, as always. "Greetings, my friends. How are you? Still feeling flush from last night's victory?"

"What kind of game are you playing here, priest?" Achilles questioned.

Shirou tilted his head. "Whatever do you mean?"

"What we mean is that, aside from not being informed of last night's true objective, we can no longer feel any connection to our masters. What in Hel's name is going on, and where are they?" Brynhildr demanded.

Shirou kept smiling, while Caster and Francisca simply giggled. "Do you two really want to know the answers to such questions?"

Achilles then slammed the haft of his spear into the ground, while Brynhildr's own weapon materialized into her hands, flames licking at its golden edges. "You're damn right we do," The hero of Troy said with menace.

"Indeed, and be sure to answer us wisely, if you want to keep that smiling head of yours attached to your neck," the Daughter of Odin warned.

To their surprise, the Master of Assassin only chuckled. "Very well. It is quite simple. Your masters and I had a peaceful discussion, and, after all was said and done, they all conceded their command seals to me. Of course, that means that, as of now, every servant of Red is now under my command, and control, as your new master. Not to worry though, for all five of the other masters are gathered here in this Garden, securely locked away in a very safe room. Last I checked, they still retained their human forms, as Assassin made sure that the poisoning was not too damaging to their systems and beings."

The shock and rage on Achilles and Brynhildr's faces were quite the palpable things. "What?"

Assassin then smirked, amused by their shock and disgust and rage. "Oh, don't act so hurt about it, you two. The thoughts and plans that had been running through the heads of those so-called 'masters' had involved only how to outsmart and backstab each other, thus making them no more than slightly bothersome obstacles. Trust me, they were not worth even a fraction of your loyalties."

Shirou then spoke up. "I understand that you both are troubled by this news. But, if I were to assure you that their lives are in no danger, then could you find it in yourselves to believe me?"

"Screw that/ to Hel with you!"

With divine rage, the Servants of the Spear and Mount thrust their respective spears forward, intent on skewering the smiling priest and his Servant where they stood.

In a flash of sparks, their momentum was suddenly arrested, courtesy of Archer, who gripped each weapon tightly. No matter how hard they tried, they could not free their weapons from his grasp. His face meanwhile seemed almost bored. "That is enough, you two. Cease, now."

"Why are you defending him?" "Did you not hear what he just told us?"

"I have. I am not deaf. However, as he said, he now our master, and, as such, I will ask you again to cease your attacks. It would be a pity if I were forced to kill the two of you."

Caster and Francisca watched with wide smiles, as if they wanted things to erupt into violence once more.

Meanwhile, darkly glowing magic circles suddenly flashed into being all around them, energy gathering at their centers.

After a long moment, Brynhildr and Achilles looked at each other, nodded, and then dematerialized their weapons. "Fine."

Archer nodded in return, and then stepped aside.

Shirou kept smiling. "Thank you, the both of you. I appreciate your cooperation. Now, as for your question as to what is going on… That too is quite simple. I am actually a Ruler Servant, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, and I have been living on this world for the past eighty years."

That sent another wave of confusion coursing through the Servant's beings. "What?" "You're a… Servant? How is that possible?"

"Yes, or, at least I was. As for how such a thing is possible… well, that's not important. What is important is that, with the Grail now in our possession, the next phase of my plan can begin, which is to use the Grail to enact my wish of salvation for all mankind. There. Are you two now satisfied in this knowledge?"

But they were still not satisfied. "So, what then, are you going to toss us aside as well when the time comes?" Achilles asked.

The Priest actually looked hurt at the accusation. "Of course not. That would be wrong and immoral. Rest assured, you will all have your chance to make your respective wishes upon the Grail. Now, if you would all humor me for a moment longer, then I have a question of my own; what is it that you all are seeking the miracle of the Holy Grail for?"

Lancer and Rider stared at him for a moment, and then shook their heads. "Sorry, but that's our own business," Brynhilldr said.

The giggling of Caster and Francisca, on the other hand, was all anyone in the room needed to know, and even that was too much information, especially as Caster was still playing with that skull of his last 'meal.'

Archer brandished his divine bow as he answered the Saint's inquiry. "The only reason that I am part of this Grail War is because I was summoned by one of the Masters of Red. As such, wielding my bow and arrows in battle is all that I desire."

That caught Assassin's attention. "Does that mean that you are still loyal to the one who was previously your master, Karna? If so, then know that you will end up regretting such a foolish decision."

The Son of Surya was unfazed by her threat, even here, in the seat of Assassin's power, and instead addressed Shirou directly. Fear not, Empress of Assyria. Using this bow of mine in battle is not only my wish, but also my compensation as well. As such, I have no real need to oppose you. You are now my master. All I require in return is to fight in this Holy Grail War to my heart's content. If you will allow me, then rest assured that I will incinerate all who seek to take the Holy Grail."

Shirou gave a nod. "Very well. You have my word, and permission."

"Then I am satisfied."

Meanwhile, still both disgusted and processing all that they have heard, Lancer and Rider left the throne room.

The remaining occupants watched the couple leave. "Those two are going to be trouble," Assassin said.

"I would not worry too much," Shirou said. "They have nowhere else to go, and, if they turn against us, I can always simply cut off their prana supply from the Grail. Besides, they still have their own wishes. Even a hero would not jeopardize such a chance."

"Very well, though, I'm starting to worry if you are simply too forgiving, Master."

A moment later, Archer spoke up once more. "Though I have already accepted you as my new Master, I will admit that I am still curious about one thing…"

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"How exactly do you intend to save humanity?"

At that, Francisca and Caster giggled again, and Shirou closed his eyes for a moment.

Then, he opened them, with a gaze as clear and cool as glass.

"Very well. I shall tell you…"

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

Caules walked down the hallways, hands shoved into his pockets, and deep in thought. Of course, this was offset by the low-key headache that he could already feel forming behind his eyes.

Caster had been right. With lessened support from the homunculi system, Caules could already feel the pull upon his meager prana reserves by Asterios, even though the giant's Independent Action managed to mitigate the cost, as well as the fact that he was accompanying him in spirit form.

Caules headed into his room, closed the door, turned on his computer, and opened the blog. The moment he did, he got a new message.

Open. _"What's up, bro?"_

 _"We fought the Red Faction two nights ago. It did not end well. The Grail was stolen, and we Lost our Lancer."_ Sent.

Reply. _"Yeesh. Tough break… is that all ya want to tell me?_

…. _"Darnic is dead."_ Sent.

…. " _Ya don't say. So, I guess that yer cute sis is the new head?"_

It was odd, in a twisted sort of way, but, despite their situation, sometimes, Caules felt as if this blackmailer was really the only person he could actually talk to.

So busy was Caules in his typing that he did not hear the door open.

"Master Caules?"

Caules froze in his typing. Slowly, he turned around to see Archer, standing before his door.

The centaur sage looked at him for a long moment, his face impassive and unreadable. Then he looked at the screen. After a horrifyingly long moment, he spoke. "We will speak later, on the battlements."

His tone brooked no arguments.

* * *

 _Trifas_

Kairi ruminated the events of the previous night with an odd mixture of wonder and disbelief. He and Saber had watched in shock as the Red Faction had sucked up the Greater Grail into the depths of that flying fortress, and then sailed away. The fact that they had not been contacted since… well, that had left a pretty clear

At the moment, he and Saber were at a local eatery. She, at the very least, was gorging herself as usual. He, on the other hand, lightly ate some eggs and bacon and toast. After last night, the Necromancer did not have much of an appetite. Plus, it also did not help that he had no idea what he and Saber were going to do now, since he had no clue where Shirou and the others had even gone. That, of course, was the priest's way of saying 'you are not worth the trouble, and we wash our hands of you.'

He and Mordred could try to reach some sort of compromise with the Black Faction, but he was not really sure that would end on a positive note.

All of this meant that, for now, he and Saber were not left with a great deal of options. So, at the moment, all they could do was eat, drink, and try to come up with a semblance of a plan.

"Kairi Sisigou."

The speaking of his name made him raise his head in surprise, as did the sight of the man who had spoken it.

"Lord El-Melloi?"

The magus lord looked as if he were about to correct him, but instead said nothing. The man was also not alone. Accompanying him were two figures, each as different as the last. The first was an older and more weathered man with a cane. He simply looked over the Necromancer, as if he were studying a specimen under a microscope, and yet, despite his bearing, seemed almost kindly.

The lord's other companion was a short girl, dressed all in gray. The oddest thing about her was her resemblance to Saber.

From the corner of his eye, Kairi noticed Saber tense, as if she were going to attack.

El-Melloi II seemed to notice this and shook his head. "Please, we're just here to talk. Besides, it's broad daylight."

"Indeed!" boomed a loud voice.

Kairi turned. Walking up behind them was a large man with bright red hair, and wearing a t-shirt, coat, and jeans, all of which looked as if they were about to rip if he flexed too hard. A wide and bright smile was on his face, even as he stared at Kairi and Saber with intense eyes.

A man with an eyepatch, who Kairi had noticed siting on the table across from them, gave a cheerful salute, before turning back to his phone. Next to the man sat two young women, one with blonde hair, and the other with brown hair. Both looked at him intently.

See all of this, the necromancer quietly gestured to Saber to not do anything stupid. They were surrounded, and, as El-Melloi II had pointed out, it was broad daylight.

He sighed and sat back down. "Alright. So, want do you want to talk about?"

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

As he said, Caules found Chiron on the battlements, his arms crossed and a stern look in his eye.

The boy gulped. Seeing no need to beat around the bush, he got right to the point. "Have you turned me in yet?"

"No. I thought it best if I gave you a chance to explain yourself first."

Caules pointedly ignored the de-astralized Asterios' growling at the implied threat behind Chiron's words as the Servant of madness loomed large and protectively behind his master and sighed."It's simple. Someone contacted me and showed that they had pictures of Yggdmillenia. More specifically of you, the golems, the battles, the other Servants… everything! They threatened to leak them online, and to various news stations, if I did not give them information about the Black Faction. If those pictures had leaked… it would have only given the Clock Tower, and the association as a whole, more reason to try and wipe us off the face of the planet, and not just leave it to the Red Faction, and that would have included Trifas as well. All those innocent people! What else was I supposed to do?!"

The centaur remained impassive in the face of this outburst. "Why did you not go to Darnic, or your sister, and inform them of what had happened?"

"You met Darnic, right? Even my sister would have had no choice but to tell him. Besides, I am just the spare. It would not mattered if I was done away with, and, believe me, over something like this? He would have handed me over to Aunt Celenike _on a platter_. Also, I think that the blackmailer would have known anyway."

He then looked the centaur dead in the eye. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Please, if you're going to kill me, then all I ask is that you just don't tell her."

The centaur stared at Caules for a very long moment. He could feel Asterios tensing, ready to outright attack (or bull-rush, as stupid as that thought was) the Servant of the Bow if things got bad. Then, to the boy's, and the Berserker's, surprise, the Teacher of Heroes just gave a warm and understanding smile. "I understand. You were backed into an impossible corner. I don't blame you."

That… that had not been what Caules had expected would happen. "What are you going to do now?"

"At the moment, I can't do anything. With the way that things are now, this Faction needs stability. I will remain silent on this. As for you, I am afraid that you have no choice but to continue giving information."

Caules sighed. "I guess that was the best I could hope for. Thanks, Chiron."

For a moment, nothing more was said. Then the sage spoke up again. "While we are up here, I need to know your opinion on something."

"What is it?"

This time, it was Chiron's turn to look Caules dead in the eye. "Do you truly believe that your sister has the capacity to lead this Faction, and your Clan?"

….

….

…. What?

Even Asterios raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"A-are you seriously asking me that?"

Chiron nodded. "I am, and I will repeat my question; Should Lady Fiore truly be allowed to lead Yggdmillennia, let alone the Black Faction? It has been troubling me for a while now."

Caules was at a loss on how to respond. "Wh… I mean… why would that be on your mind? Do you not think that she led the discussion well enough?"

"I'm afraid you might be misunderstanding me… Without a single doubt in my mind, I fully accept her as my Master."

"Then what exactly is the problem?!"

"This is a war. Most of the fighting will still be done between us Servants, but, still, anything can happen. Should such a situation arise, then, from what have seen, I honestly and truly wonder if she even has the capacity and resolve to take life of another person."

What was he saying?! "O-of course she does! Don't be ridiculous. She's a magus, and to be a magus is to walk with death! Besides, she already fought with that muscle head Sisigou that one time, remember?!"

"That may be true, master Caules, but please try to consider this; is your sister had won that duel, would she have been able to finish the job, to actually kill him? Would she have been able to bear the burden of having to kill someone in cold blood, and on her own?"

Damn it. He was right.

Still, this was his sister. He had to keep trying. "…Possibly."

Chiron continued on, undaunted. "As a whole, mages are known to be cold of heart, and resolute in their minds and goals. Yet, my maser, you sister, has a completely different mindset. She is kind, and gentle, and her ethics are, on a whole, a great deal more humane, to an almost detrimental degree."

The worst part was that there was no malice in the Servant of the Bow's words. It was if he were a doctor, calmly explaining the symptoms of a disease to the family of one of his terminal patients.

Caules sighed again, and then raised his head. "A long time ago, when we were both very young, Fiore and I used to have a dog. Like most of the canine breed, it was a simple and gentle creature. It was also the apple of my sister's eye, and she committed herself whole-heartedly to raising and taking care of it."

Despite himself, Caules clearly remembered those happy days in the sun that the three of them had spent, the happy laughter and woofs floating over the air. Mostly, though, he remembered how often his sister had smiled, then, especially when she would cradle that dog in her arms.

"Unfortunately," he continued to the listening centaur (and to Berserker, it seemed), "in a typical mage's household, pets are usually raised for one specific reason; research and sacrifice. I actually asked her, once, why she bothered caring for it so much."

He still remembered her cheerful and honest reply. _"Come on! It's only natural to treat your pet with love and affection, isn't it?"_

"I was well aware of the fate that our father had planned for that dog, but Fiore… she had to learn the hard way…"

He could still hear the pitiful whine and whimpers of the dog as it died, and the dispassionate chanting of their father. "We were both made to watch as our father conjured a spirit into the dog, knowing full well that it would kill the animal in the most painful way possible. As he put it, it was to show a 'bad example' of what our family's magic could do if used incorrectly, and on a living subject.

"Fiore… she did not actually burst in tears as we watched it suffer and die. At least, not until later, when we were digging its grave. She just started weeping, and saying 'I'm sorry' to it, over and over."

He could feel the horror and disgust radiating off of Berserker, while Chiron… Chiron remained impassive.

"Why are you concerning yourself with this, if I may ask," Caules questioned. "You'll just be gone by the time that a decision about her being leader is reached."

Chiron smiled again, a warm thing full of tolerance and understanding, and not at all off put by Caules' blunt observation. "It is quite simple; it is the primary duty of a teacher to guide all those who are lost."

Caules took a moment to understand what he was saying, and then nodded. "Oh. I get it."

Chiron's face then turned serious again. "Master Caules. I have a favor to ask of you."

"A favor?"

"Yes. When I vanish from this world once more, whether through combat or through the distant attaining of my wish, you will be the only one who my master can rely upon."

Caules was honestly a bit surprised. "You would me, a traitor, to handle such a task?"

"If I truly though you to be a traitor, master Caules, then this conversation would have already ended."

Despite his words, Caules could not help but smile. "Fair enough. As for your favor… I would have done it anyway, without exception. If, at the end of all of this, Fiore still wants to become the next head of Yggdmillennia, then I will have her back, all the way. Though, I will still have to have a proper talk with her about it."

Then, to Chiron's surprise, Caules chuckled. "Besides, it's a law older than time that all little brothers have to follow and support their big sisters. Everybody knows that."

That drew a raised eyebrow Chiron as well. "Indeed? Is that truly the case?"

"Yep. It has been, and it always will be."

The centaur sage then chuckled. "In that case, it would seem that I still have much to learn about this World. How truly wonderful."

"It sure seems that way at times."

At that, Chiron dematerialized into astral form, Leaving Caules and Asterios to watch the sunset.

The, briefly, he felt Asterios' large hand ruffle his head again.

"You… kind… boy," the giant rumbled.

All Caules could do was simply smile.

* * *

 _Night_

Not for the first time, Reika was really enjoying the gift that Jackie had shared with her after coming back from that big battle.

Everything just felt… _more._

Her vision was sharper, her limbs seemed stronger, and, now, she felt like she could do _anything_! She could even keep up with her daughter, which itself was worth it!

She was even enjoying her refined palate, after tearing apart her first real victim.

At the moment, she and Jackie were jumping and skipping across the rooftops. "We told you, mommy! Isn't this fun?"

"It really is! Thank you, my dear!"

They kept skipping and jumping for a bit, and then Jackie pointed at a house. "How about that one? We think it feels right!"

"Sure. Let's go."

In the blink of an eye, they were standing normally on the dark street. Then they walked right up to the door and gave a series of happy knocks.

The door opened, and she and Jackie both gave nice big grins to the confused denizens. "Trick or Treat!"

* * *

 _Hanging Gardens of Babylon_

When he had been younger, Achilles had often enjoyed gazing at the sky with Chiron, and then later with Patroclus in their war camp outside Troy. Whether it had been a sunny day sky, or a blanket of stars, all he had to do was look up, and he would feel totally at peace, even if he had to train or go to war the very next day or moment.

Now, here he was, with his head in the lap of a beautiful woman, staring at the night sky, and, once again, he felt at peace.

"What is your wish, Achilles?"

The Surefooted hero considered the question, as he lay there in The Daughter of Odin's lap, with their fingers entwined.

"To live and die like a true hero and god, so that I can finally fulfill a promise that I made to my mother. In other words, I just want to be better than I was at Troy."

As he spoke, memories of Hektor's ravaged corpse and The Amazon Queen's angry face smashed their way into the forefront of his mind.

Yeah, a true hero….

"That is an admirable thing," his fellow hero said

Was it? Shouldn't a true hero wish for more? If he did not get the grail, then perhaps he would never find out.

"How about you, pretty lady?" he then asked Brynhildr.

The Eldest Valkyrie was silent for a long question, before shrugging. "For most of my life, I was surrounded by gods and men who were ever dishonest to me. My life then became a tragedy, because of the dishonesty of one once close to me. So, I suppose that my wish is to be in a world of only honesty. I have had enough falsehoods to last two lifetimes."

She then smiled. "I guess that is part of why I like you so much."

"Really, because I was honest? When?"

"The moment we met, after our summoning. You looked me in the eye, and said _'before we say our names, I want you to know that I have done things in my legend I am not proud of. But, all that matters now is that I am beyond honored to be fighting beside you, Lancer. Let's forge new legends, in this Holy Grail War."_

Achilles chuckled. "Still can't believe I said all that. It was just that, to me, you looked like the sort of person that should never be lied to, and always be respected, so I wanted to tell you that upfront. But tell me, what was the other reason?"

Brynhildr actually blushed. "I suppose the other reason is because you are the type of person whose place in Valhalla would be assured. We Valkyries have an eye for that sort of thing, after all."

They both then chuckled at that. "Then I feel doubly blessed to have earned such approval from one as grand as you."

In response, she dipped her head down, and kissed him square on the lips, an action he returned with relish.

Suddenly, the two of them jerked away from the other, Shirou's voice echoing in their heads. _"Forgive me for being a bother, but I have a task for the both of you and Archer…"_

* * *

Kairi lit up the cigarette, and slowly inhaled, letting the smoke claw and trickle its way down his esophagus.

To be honest, he really needed this. His mind was already still trying to process what El-Melloi II had told him.

After he blew out some smoke, he looked at Saber. "So, what's your take on all of this?"

She glared up at him from where she rested on her back. 'Honestly, I think it's all just more horse crap! I mean, another faction?! Could this all get any more complicated?! Really all it means is that it is just going to take us a whole lot longer to win the grail now!"

"Yeah, the grail."

Mordred then looked up at him. "Hey master. I've been wondering for a while now…"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you participating in this War?"

"I told you, I was hired to."

Of course, what with how the Red Faction had abandoned him and Saber, it was best if he renegotiated his terms with Old Man Belfaban.

"Yeah, but, I mean, besides that. What's your wish for the cup?"

The question made Kairi go silent for another long moment. Then, after an exhalation of cancer smoke… "For me to fully answer that, let me first ask you a question; you ever hear those stories about people making deals with the devil?"

At Saber's confused look, he continued. "Well, a long time ago, an ancestor of mine actually managed to do just that. The Sisigou bloodline had begun to wither, so, after immigrating to japan, they made a deal with… _something_ that managed to not only allow us to revitalize the bloodline and drag ourselves back from the brink of ruin, but also made us into a grand and noble house of necromancers in the land of the Setting Sun."

He paused for another inhalation. "Unfortunately, every deal has a cost. My family's deal resulted in me becoming sterile, meaning that the bloodline will end with my generation."

"Seriously? If you're so bent out of shape about it, then couldn't you just adopt a kid or something into the family?"

"Nope. I tried that once already…."

Despite himself, his hand began to shake as the memories began to surge to the forefront of his mind. "The kid ended up dying because of me. There was nothing more I could do."

"What?"

Inhale, exhale, and the image of her broken and twisted body was still as fresh in his mind as that black day. "One of the key functions of being a successful magus is being able to transfer one's crest onto the body of their chosen heir, usually a child. If they are unable to do so, then all of that magi's skills, experiences, and knowledge will go to waste."

He remembered how she had cried in pain, her body almost breaking in two from the seizures…

 _Daddy! It hurts!_

"…After the implantation failed, an autopsy of her corpse revealed that, were I to transfer my crest to anyone, then a deadly and incurable poison would instantly flood their entire body."

Unconsciously, he found his hand reaching down to the stuffed animal that he kept suspended on his belt, and sadly stroked the rabbit's head.

"My clan had wanted to try again, thinking that the failure had just been a fluke… but I knew better. It was painfully obvious that, after me, the bloodline is going to end. There was no point in denying it. So, after I buried my adopted daughter, I abandoned the path and life of a magus, left home, and went my own way, took up the life and profession of a mercenary and bounty hunter, and then, with one thing leading to another, I've now ended up here, participating in a Holy Grail War."

He smirked, putting out his spent cigarette on the ground as he did so. "Funny where life can take you, huh?"

Saber processed this for a bit. "So, then, I'm guessing that your wish for the cup is to be able to have children? So that your precious bloodline can continue, and that you can spawn a bunch of little necromancers?"

Kairi chuckled. "Something like that, I guess. What's wrong, is that too selfish for your refined and noble tastes, your Majesty? How harsh. Here I am, revealing to you my shameful and tragic family history, and all you can do is judge? For shame."

"Screw you! Besides, I have bigger concerns on my mind. Chief among them being why the hell are we back here in this creepy and filthy place?!" she asked, gesturing around at the Stavropoleos Church Cemetery crypt that was their current base and campsite. "I liked that motel better! It was clean, and the beds were actually soft!"

Not this again. "Like I told you, we couldn't stay with the Black Faction, and now, with this Blue Faction running about, who know where we were staying in the city? Where else are we supposed to go?"

"So, what? I'm not scared of more Servants! Besides, those blue guys offered us an alliance. Aren't we at least going to help them hunt down Assassin of Black?"

"We are, but you're missing the point. It's only a matter of time before the Reds and the Blacks discover this new faction, and, if we're not careful, we're going to get caught up in the crossfire. Despite that, it's in our best interest to cooperate with the Blues, seeing as how we really don't have any other choice.

That got her attention, and so he continued. "Regardless, it would foolish of us to drop our guard."

"I already know all that master. I'm not an idiot!"

"I wasn't finished talking yet. Stop interrupting me.

"Fine, I'm listening!" she said with a pout.

"Great. First off, despite our little Alliance, we're still going to be acting independently of them."

"Huh?"

"If we tell Lord El-Melloi II that it's too dangerous to move in one big group, I'm sure that they'll understand. Besides, as I said earlier, sooner or later, The Blue faction is going to be found out by the Reds and Blacks. When that happens, and everyone is distracted with fighting each other…"

From the look in her eye, Saber was finally starting to catch on. They both smiled and, as if they were possessed of one mind, spoke. "We take the Holy Grail!"

At that, they both burst into laughter, until their sides positively ached. "HA! I knew it! I knew that you weren't the type to just roll over and give up, Master!"

Kairi's face then turned serious for a moment. "Thank you, but, I'm curious. You don't find such a plan to be shameful and underhanded?"

Her response was another grin and a shrug of nonchalance. "Honestly? I'm not sure. Guess that's something to think about once all is said and done."

To Kairi, that was good enough. "I guess that's a good point."

"Thanks, but now it's my turn to ask you a question."

"Which is?"

This time, it was Mordred's turn to adopt a serious face, as she looked him dead in the eye. "Do you still hold on to memories of the child that you adopted?"

He met her gaze without blinking for a long moment, as his daughter's screams once more echoed through his memories, and he gripped the stuffed rabbit at his belt once more. "In this unforgiving world in which we live and die, there are things which should never be forgotten. So, yes, until my last breath, I will never forget her."

That answer satisfied Saber, as she then held out her hand, curled into a fist. "A good answer, Master."

With some confused hesitation, he bumped his fist against hers, making her grin again. "Let's go and win the Holy Grail!"

* * *

The Servant quietly slipped in to the house, unnoticed by innocent bystanders. The inside was… too perfect. There was no visible trace of blood, and almost no signs of a struggle. Aside from a few slight signs, such as the worn handle, and indentation of the sofa and seats, one would almost think that no one had ever lived here, as well as the slight ruffle of the rug, and a scent that hung about the air. Had it not been for the reports of screams but the neighbors, no one would have thought there was anything awry within the house.

It had started happening three days ago, which made this the fifth case now, and the populaces was starting to get scared, with some whispering that it was the fault of the residents of the old castle.

Around Trifas, people were starting to disappear, and this was but the latest case, with no rhyme or reason to them, save that they were all in Trifas, and had started three days ago.

He did not look up as the door opened. He was well hidden. He already had a good idea of what was responsible, if not who, but, he wanted to see if these new arrivals could figure it out as well….

* * *

To El-Melloi II, the broken family pictures made it all the creepier. So many normalcies now irrevocably shattered and destroyed.

"Are you alright, Lord El-Melloi II?" the elder man asked as he limped inside.

"No," the replied flatly, turning to look at his fellow master of Blue. "Unlike most magi, I tend to not enjoy the sight of gruesome murders, or strange disappearances."

"Hm. You are indeed unlike most magi that I have met."

El-Melloi II grunted. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The knight looked about, stroking his short beard as he did so. "I have indeed seen similar occurrences to this, in my many travels. As such, I unfortunately think that I have a very good idea of what we are dealing with," Sir Dan Blackmore said, as he limped deeper into the house.

"And what would that be?"

After a moment, the old knight found what he had been looking for. "It's always the basement, it seems," the old man mused, as he slowly opened the door with a creak.

Right away, a powerful stench swept into the room, making El-Melloi II gag and almost slam a hand over his mouth, while Sir Blackmore merely covered his mouth with a handkerchief. It brought to El-Melloi II's mind the unwanted memories of his War's Caster servant.

Blackmore then turned to look at the Clock Tower Lord, and spoke, his voice muffled by his handkerchief.

"Tell me, young lord; have you ever heard of the legend of nosferatu?"

El-Melloi II knew right away what he was referring to, and so reacted accordingly. "Shit."

Unfortunately, the act of speaking meant that some of the fetid air from the basement found its way into his mouth, and thus sent him scrambling for the bathroom, where, a moment later, the heavy sounds of retching echoed about.

* * *

The observer watched the two leave, and then descended into the cellar, unbothered by the smell and sight, and began looking about for clues. After several minutes of searching, he came across an old box, and inside it was a large pile of lists; names, to be exact, written on paper that, if he was not mistaken, had been manufactured in Britain. His curiosity piqued, he took the lists…

* * *

Despite Fiore's orders, Bazett did not want to remain cooped up in the Millennia Castle for who-knew-how long. Besides, with Rider's Independent Action skill, the cost to her own prana was not too bad.

After three days, she just needed to get out, to stretch her legs, and to actually revel in the fact that Celenike's shadow was no longer hanging over her life.

As stereotypically cliché as it was, the magus had decided that the best way to do so was to drink beer, and lots of it.

So, they had left the castle, borrowed a car, driven into the town, and then

Bazett _chugged_ down her pint of beer, and then slammed the empty glass down onto the bar table. "Hey, Rider?"

The hero paused in his own quaffing. "Yeah?"

"Is it wrong that I don't feel sad over the fact that my sister is dead?"

That caught his attention, and he slowly set down his drink. "Honestly, Master? I don't know. I'm not really the best guy to ask about dead family members. So, instead, how about you tell me what you think?"

She took another pull of her beer and gestured for a refill. "That bitch terrorized me my entire childhood, any chance that she could get. She was always fond of hot needles. I learned early that it did not matter whether I screamed or not, because either just made her do it more. Hell, I still have nightmares about it from time to time."

Rider simply listened, the widening of his eyes the only showing of shock. Bazett paused to drink. "Celenike was a monster in every sense of the word. I am glad that she is dead, but… I'm not entirely happy that she's dead either. Despite everything else though… she was still my sister if barely."

She then raised her glass, prompting Rider. "I guess that if you spend so long wishing fro someone to be dead, it feels cheap when it actually does. Anyway, to Celenike, may she rot forever in hell."

"Hear, hear,"

Clink, and drink.

As they set down their steins, they heard the sound of clapping, accompanied by footsteps.

"Wow! Top notch story there, girlie! Powerful stuff! Really gets me, right there in the old ticker."

The man walking up to them was quite solidly built, and tall. It was almost intimidating. His skin was dark, and his hair, a blue several shades lighter than Cu Chulainn, was shorn quite close to his scalp. "S'up? Buy ya both a drink?"

He then grinned, and his teeth were like red and white checkerboards.

Before Rider and Bazett could even react, they both tensed, with the latter being shocked straight to sobriety.

The reason for their shock walked in the door; a man, a breath below six feet in height, with hair of ebony black and shining gold, and dressed in fine and expensive clothes of impeccable taste and quality. His very being seemed to glow with a radiance, simultaneously brightening the room by entering it, and dimming it because he put all other light to shame.

Despite being a pair more than ready to fight against the odds, one red-eyed look from this man was more than enough Rider and Bazett freeze in something that could only be termed _fear_.

This was a deep and animalistic fear; the sort that was the instinctual feeling that they were both well outclassed, that this man was the apex of all who stood before and came after him, and that to go against him was to, in no uncertain terms, be committing suicide.

Even with this fear…. They felt _excited_.

But, for the moment, they let their instincts rule in this moment, and remained seated. The man with the checkerboard teeth grinned again.

"Since yer both here, we should talk…."

* * *

In their new house, with all the curtains firmly closed, of course, Reika played the piano, her clawed hands gentle upon the keys. It had been a while, but, for some reason, coaxing sweet harmonies from the black and white keys had always come naturally to her. At times, she supposed that, had life gone differently for her, she could have achieved much fame as a great pianist. She could have been happier in that sort of life.

But, all things considered, as she played, and watched Jack listen to the music with a smile on her face, Reika was much happier with her life as it was now.

"Wow, mommy. You're really good at playing the piano."

"Thank you dear. I guess all those lessons are still hanging around in my mind, even after all this time."

Those were really the only memories of her past life that she ever could recall with fondness.

"What's the name of this song you're playing?"

"You like it? It's called _Träumerei,_ by a composer named Robert Schumann _."_

"What does that mean?"

"It means 'Dreaming,' in German."

"Really?"

Reika nodded as he played. "Yep…. You know, to be perfectly honest, that is really how all of this feels to me, like one big, happy dream, ever since you saved me. Plus, the gift you shared with me just makes the whole thing even better."

Jack blushed at that. "Being together with you has really felt like a dream for us too, mommy! That's why we gave you that nice girl's gift, so that it never has to end!"

"And it is indeed a wonderful gift, my dear."

Jack then suddenly sniffed at the air. "What is it?" Reika asked, as she kept playing.

"I smell a bunch of tasty new meals coming."

"Really? Then how about we go out and find them in a bit?"

"Yay!"

* * *

 _Almost Night_

"I really don't like this idea."

"I am aware, Lord El-Melloi II. But we do not have many other options," Blackmore said, as they casually walked about the street, the tap-tap-tap of the elderly knight's cane sounding off the cobblestones. "As our friend the priest could not doubt tell you, sometimes, when hunting Dead Apostles, or, in this case, a Soul-eating Servant/vampire and its Master, you need bait. What could better bait for such creatures than magi and Servants?"

"He is right, Waver," Rider said, munching on the contents of a bag of potato chips as they walked, and ignoring the glare El-Melloi II sent his servant at the mention of his old name. "This is a hunt, and, in hunting, using bait is an excellent stratagem. It actually reminds me of the times that I hunted lions with my dear friend Craterus."

"I understand that, your majesty, but this sort of maneuver is extremely risky, and, if the slightest thing goes wrong, this town will get caught in the crossfire. Should that happen, then the whole of the Clock Tower, not to mention the rest of the Association, will come down on all our heads with a vengeance, especially once they discover our existence as a third Faction. This Holy Grail War has already gone off the rails enough as it is, especially since our attempt at the Grail failed."

Next to them Flat then spoke. "Oh, come on! This is awesome. You should be more excited, Teacher! We're hunting vampires, like Buffy, and Helsing, and Lady Integra, and Alucard, and James Woods!"

"None of those are real people, Flat, and the last one is just an actor!" El-Melloi II scolded. "Dead Apostles are more dangerous than how vampires are depicted in the media, which you would know if you actually retained any knowledge in that empty skull of yours!

Though Sir Blackmore and Rider chuckled at the antics of the two, the group said nothing more for a bit as they reached a café, and sat down, Blackmore groaning a bit as he gingerly settled into his chair. "Pardon me and my old bones. It seems that even magecraft cannot fully cure that peculiar ailment known as old age."

El-Melloi II waved off the apology, and then ordered a round of drinks for the quartet.

"As for your concerns, well, I recommend that you not let such things dwell in your mind, young lord. As the leader of our strange little faction, you need to keep a clear head and mind. Especially when hunting these creatures."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Yes, as well as some very costly trial and error," Blackmore said, tapping the side of his leg with his cane as he spoke, a hollow thumping noise echoing into the air from the action.

"I had wondered about that. I just thought it was from your time in Afghanistan."

"I never said that it was not."

They paused in their conversation as the café waitress brought their drinks. Rider being Rider, the woman was soon blushing at his cheerful grin and gentle murmers.

"I have to ask though, what makes you think that this will work?" El-Melloi II asked.

Blackmore sipped from his beverage. "If these were older, more experienced Apostles, then the chances of this working would have dropped to miniscule, at best. The older ones know when to curb their thirst and will usually lay low between feedings."

Flat drank from his glass of milk, and shuddered. "Creepy."

Sip, and then Blackmore continued. "But these two? They are newborns, with the thirst for the essence of life being like a drug to them, coursing through their veins and very beings, and they will take any opportunity once the sun is down to indulge in their new vice, regardless of the consequences."

El-Melloi II processed the information. Despite being both a Lord of the Clock Tower, and the reluctant heir to a great family that, under any other circumstances, would have happily slit his throat and dumped his corpse into the sea, the study of the Dead Apostles had never been high on his list of priorities, especially once he had begun teaching students. "If I may, how exactly do you know so much about Dead Apostles?"

Blackmore took another sip of his drink. "For me, it's somewhat of a family connection, starting with a distant ancestor of mine, and his passion for all things avian and bird."

Ever since they had met, El-Melloi II had been unable to shake the feeling that he had heard Dan Blackmore's last name before. At the mention of birds however, it suddenly clicked. "Are you serious? One of the Twenty-Seven?"

His fellow Brit nodded. "Indeed. Thus, as you can no doubt imagine, it makes family reunions more than a bit awkward, to say the least."

Nothing more was said after that, and so they simply sat, drank their beverages, and warily watched the sun as it continued its slow descent into the depths of the western horizon.

Blackmore than pulled out a pocket watch, and the device's gentle ticking floated out into the cool dusk air.

"Almost time."

* * *

On the other side of Trifas, The Priest with one eye, the girl in grey, the two sisters, and the middle-aged woman with red hair walked and carefully looked about.

"You alright, Sakura?" Her adopted sister asked.

The younger sister nodded. "I'm fine, Luvia. Just a bit apprehensive."

The priest chuckled. "Not to worry, senoritas. Remember what senior Blackmore and I have told you, and you will all be fine. But, understand this; right now, it will be a "kill-or-be-killed" situation. As such, do not hesitate, no matter what form the Dead may come in, be it adult or child."

The Girl in Grey noted how the middle-aged woman with red hair looked saddened at that pronouncement.

The blonde sister replied with an hmph. "Easy for you to say, Father. You and Sir Blackmore have been doing this sort of thing all of your lives. The rest of us, however, are woefully lacking in expertise."

"If you truly were, then you would be sitting this one out. As Lord El-Melloi II has mentioned to me, you and your sister are more than adept at hand-to-hand combat. You will be fine."

He then looked at the redhead, and grinned. "Besides, we have a bona-fide war photographer here with us, as well as a Sub-Categoryy Holy Grail War veteran with us, alongside our illustrious leader. As such, Ms. Saijou here has a great deal of experience in warzones, after all, at least where to find the perfect camera angles and shot, and perhaps how to bludgeon someone to death with camera equipment."

He ignored the photographer's unchristian gesture and glare with a smile.

All watched the sun set.

Suddenly, in the bar where Caster and Rider of Black were, the golden man's head jerked up in the now empty café, empty save for Caster, and the Rider and Master of Black. _'Masters, I sense Three Servants of Red approaching.'_

The message was relayed to El-Melloi II, who swore once again. _'Fine. If you would, please take care of it if you wish, your Majesty.'_

 _'Hmph. Very well. I need some entertainment. The Archer of Red, at least, should provide some.'_

Indeed, as the last vestiges of sunlight vanished, it felt as if the entire town were holding its breath.

 **3…** The First King then disappeared in a flash of gold sparks.

 **2…** Meanwhile, by the grey girl's side, her invisible Saber tensed.

 **1…** The Shadows deepened, as Reika walked out the front door, and Jackie jumped out the window, her eyes glowing….

* * *

The moment that the sun vanished, the Blue faction immediately went on guard. A breath later, a strange mist began to creep through and around the buildings.

Unlike before, however, this mist was not merely gray. Now, it was tinged with red.

As it billowed in around buildings, and slowly filled the streets. Immediately, the Masters and Servants still in the city were on guard.

Blackmore withdrew a shining pistol from his coat.

El-Melloi II pulled out a large flask filled with mercury.

Flat swallowed nervously.

Green lines arced across the skin of Luvia and Sakura Edelfelt.

The girl in grey pulled out a strange cube from a birdcage hooked on her belt, and, a moment later, held in her hands a great and terrible scythe.

The woman with red hair summoned a ball of flame into her hand.

The priest simply put away his phone.

Their servants then shifted into their battle Regalia, ready for whatever came next.

Then, the screams suddenly began. When the townspeople inhaled the fog, some began to choke, some screamed, and others began to collapse. In the sister's group, the Red-haired woman saw a man collapse, coughing and choking. Quickly, she ran to him. "Sir! Are you alright?"

A moment later, he suddenly twitched, and looked up at her with eyes of blood-red, and a mouth filled with growing fangs!

Her surprise and fright momentarily paralyzed her, and the newly formed Dead reared up, intent on having a fresh meal.

A moment later, the one-eyed priest promptly pulped the thing's head with a hand. "As I said, remain on your guard!"

Very soon, both groups slowly, and then quickly, found themselves being swarmed by a growing mass of ravenous dead.

One victim had been driving a car when the fog had settled, and then, had crashed the vehicle into a house. Sparks from the crash mixed with leaking gasoline were all the ingredients needed for a flame to start spreading from building to build, since, in Trifas, many of the homes, which dated back to the middle ages, were still made from wood and stone.

As the screams and flames began to burn, it was made quite clear that Hell had settled on Trifas.

* * *

From the Castle, Chiron watched in horror at the scene below him, as the red mist and the flames spread.

What in Tartarus was going on?

Then, he proceeded to raise the alarm…

* * *

 _Hanging Gardens_

From her and Caster's quarters aboard the Hanging Gardens, Francisca laughed and laughed as she watched Trifas slowly burn while the Dead ran amuck, slaughtering anything in their path.

Sure, the fact that those pesky Servants and their Masters were killing them in turn dampened the mood (where had they come form, anyway), but hey, you win some, and then you lose some. Besides, the entertainment this war was bringing was already more than enough as its own reward.

While they had already known that Jack the Ripper had been summoned into the War, Francisca and Caster had not been able to find an opportunity to interact with the adorable serial killer, a creation of Prelati; at least until the battle of Trifas.

Francisca still remembered, with deranged glee, coming across that wayward child, right as she had been ramming her adorable little face into a dead hooker's dissected flesh.

Prelati had honestly been feeling a little bored that day, and so had decided to see what would happen if he harnessed and fueled the little guttersnipe with all the anguish of the lost and dead children of London, along with the sacrifice of more children and prostitutes, of course, and then set the little beast loose.

As for the results, well, the murders that the little scamp had then committed had been beyond funny to observe!

Especially since little Jack had not been the only one running around White Chapel those days….

So, when they found the chance to interact with the little killer again, Francisca had all but leapt at the opportunity.

After finding the little Heroic Servant, she and Francisca had chatted, and then, again, just to see what would happen, Francisca altered the Assassin's Saint Graph with the blood of an Apostle.

Despite being a Heroic Spirit, little Jack had been, and still was, in effect, a living piece of magecraft. Thus, as the original crafter, Francisca had been more then able to manipulate it at will. Besides, with some of the ambiguities still surrounding The Ripper's legend, adding the aspect of a vampire, as well as a previous war's Assassin, had been little more than child's play.

She then clapped her hands in joy at the sight of a child being decapitated by a ghoul that had once been its own mother. "Oh boy, oh boy. Let's see how many people die tonight! Their screams will be beyond intoxicating!"

* * *

Prepared as they might have been, the act of fighting undead was never a simple thing, even for magi, as they now understood when the quickly growing horde surged towards them, eager for blood.

"Damn it!" Blackmore swore, as he put a bullet in the head of a slavering undead. "The fog is turning them into ghouls!"

"Well, until we find the source, there is not much we can do except save those who aren't affected, and put down the ones who are!" El- Melloi II ordered, as he directed the now-floating mercury orb to eviscerate any blood drinkers that came at the lord and Flat, who cowered by his side. Near them, Rider slashed and punched, lightning punctuating each of his attacks.

"Find Assassin of Black, and this should all end!"

As more began to converge on their position, El-Melloi II shouted out another warning towards Rider, who nodded.

With a slash of the air, the Servant of the Mount's Bull-drawn Chariot clattered onto the street. Once Blackmore, Flat, and El-Melloi II managed to board it, Rider flicked the reign, and sped past and through the growing horde in another burst of lighting, the three masters hanging on for dear life.

"The fog could not have infected everyone in the town already! Where are all these ghouls coming from?" El-Melloi II guessed.

"Now's not the time for analysis, Master!" Rider yelled as he handled the chariot. "As you said, we have to locate the vampiric Assassin! Until then, we fight!"

* * *

As the redheaded woman threw a ball of fire into a small group of ghouls, setting their dead flesh on fire, she nodded as the message spread across the faction's link.

"Assassin," she said, simply.

From her shadow, a young girl clothed from head to toe in black cloth emerged onto the scene and sped off into the night, leaving behind her destroyed bodies of ghouls in her wake.

* * *

The Girl in Grey had been forced to separate from her group. Not that it mattered. Her Servant was still by her side, no longer invisible for the moment, having switched his cloak for a sword. Between her scythe, and his mighty, white-hilted blade of fire, the dead were no contest.

"Stay beside me, Gray," The Swordsman shouted as he bisected three ghouls into greasy ash.

* * *

Alighting onto a low hanging rooftop, Jack saw the girl with the scythe and the stupid knight with the blazing sword.

They were going to be tasty!

Licking her lips and fanged teeth, Jack bent her knees and began to softly chant, as darkness and blood crept up and over her miniscule body and limbs.

 _There shall be a Murder_

 _It will be Hell for me here, on these bloody streets_

 _We shall be the rain, the fire, as well as the strength_

 _Let there be a slaughter and let there be a feast_

 **Maria the Ripper**

Like an arrow of darkness and malice, the Ripper of Whitehall jumped and sped off the roof, straight towards the girl.

* * *

Preoccupied as she was with fighting off the growing horde, Gray failed to notice the shape in the thickening fog leaping down towards her, knives glinting and reflecting the red glow in her eyes.

But her Saber did.

With barely a thought, he directed his flaming sword towards the black mass of knives and blood, intercepting the Assassin's attack with a mighty clang.

* * *

"What?" the Assassin screamed out in surprise, before the Servant of the Sword battered her away into a wall.

Then, he was on the offensive, each swing of his mighty sword of flame barely dodged, before she leapt back and away. "How? How did you block my Noble Phantasm? It's a curse! You can't block curses with a sword!"

The handsome coat that hung about his shoulders briefly glowed a brave red. "My coat allows me to detect, and intercept, any attack that it deems cowardly, especially if it is of the same or lower rank. Unfortunately for you, Your Noble Phantasm, and curses, count as such. Now, it is time for you to be judged. You and your master have gone much too far!"

That struck a chord with the Assassin. "Oh, have we? It's possible… guess we'll see… but not yet… not at all… not until we hold the Grail with mommy… because until then, we will never truly know satisfaction!"

With an evil grin, she readied her knives, and sped forward, and the knight's sword was at the ready.

Then came a voice. "Neither will I."

Suddenly, it was not the Servant of the Sword that she clashed with, but instead…. Another her?

Saber knew who this newcomer was, instantly. "Berserker? What are you doing here?! You were ordered to not be a part of this battle!"

Jack's mirror image ignored the Saber's question, and instead focused solely on the now very confused Jack. When the mirror image spoke, the voice the echoed from its mouth was not that of a little girl, but something formless, and unsure, as it readied its own knives. "You… are also Jack the Ripper. How? Was it really you who killed all those people?"

"What are you talking about? Of course, it was us! We are Jack the Ripper!"

What it said next shocked her to her core, though, for some reason, it was not unexpected. "I know. But, so am I! Who were we? Who was I?"

That last declaration was then punctuated by it slashing at the vampiric Assassin with a strange madness. Jack managed to keep up, but only barely. Each slash was punctuated by another question. "Were we really a child? Or was it a doctor? A nobleman? A butcher? A prostitute? A demon? A nobody? You know who you were! Did you kill Mary Kelly, Mary Nichols, Annie, Catherine, Elizabeth, and all the others? Tell me, then, who was I?"

"Stop it! We don't know! Just leave us alone!" Jack screamed in anger, frustration, and even a little fear. She feinted a slash left, and then, with that momentary distraction leapt back.

With an evil smirk, she reached into the fog, and brought forth a small figure. A child. "Here, how about you ask this thing instead?"

Her wicked grin only widening, she threw the comatose child forward. With wide eyes, the copy of her dropped its knives to catch the child, sending the two tumbling back in a heap.

As they did, Jack laughed, even as the Saber with the flaming sword readied to attack.

A moment later, she stopped laughing felt a blinding pain suddenly blossom in her left leg. An arrow had sliced clean through it.

The Assassin collapsed to the ground holding her truncated limb and screaming in agony. Even Dead Apostles could still feel pain.

Before he could bring the flaming sword down upon her head, Jack vanished in a flash of blue.

The strange Berserker and the Saber briefly looked about in confusion before rejoining the fray.

Where had that arrow come from?

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

From his perch atop the battlements of Millennia Castle, Chiron lowered his bow. Fiore's voice then echoed through his mind. _'Archer. Were you successful?'_

 _'Partially. I managed to make contact, but it is quite difficult to tell if I actually defeated her. What are your orders regarding this unknown faction?'_

 _'Since they were the ones to engage Assassin, we shall leave it up to them. Afterwards, we will confront them.'_

 _'Understood.'_

* * *

On the field outside Trifas, while the town burned, two gods in human flesh stood across from one another, each clad in armor that seemed to make the sun seem as a lightbulb that just went out. To even look at them was to invite blindness upon the retinas.

When the Rider, Lancer, and Archer of Red had approached the town, they had found their way barred by a single person; a man in unique and ornate armor of gold and ancient runes and symbols and designs. His hair, like Karna's, was of two colors, though, instead of red and white, it was black and gold.

He had let Lancer and Rider pass, barely giving them even a glance.

Archer of Red, on the other hand; the Golden man had studied Karna with deadly intent, like one would examine a specimen on the other side of a cage.

"It is odd, but I feel some sorrow for you, Archer of Red. You are a noble soul, and I can tell that you are in service to one who you would feel disdain for." the Archer of Blue admitted.

"One could almost say the same of you, Archer of Blue" replied the Archer of Red. "I imagine that one such as you have always been lonely, standing so far above all others."

The Golden man smirked; humor and violence alight in his crimson eyes. "You know me, then. That is good. Ever since I have heard of your summoning, I have been hoping to face you. I, and the rest of my faction, watched your battles against Vlad III with some great interest. As such, I order that you make this entertaining for me, Sun of the Sun God. I have been quite starved for a good fight." The King of Heroes declared.

From the device on his back, he withdrew two strange and magnificently crafted swords, while, around his left arm was entwined a well-crafted chain. Then, all around him came into being a plethora of shining portals.

"I only ask the same of you, King of Heroes," The Sun of the Sun God replied, as he knocked an arrow to Vijya's glowing bowstring, while the flames that surrounded him grew in intensity, and lighting flashed about him.

The grin on the kingly face of the First Hero was altogether a terrible, and rapturous thing to behold.

A moment later, the two gods clashed….

* * *

Caster examined the Holy Grail with interest. It was an interesting piece of work, this massive floating sphere.

According to his summoner, after his first death, he had watched and participated in many different Grail Wars over the years. He could believe it, once she had shared her memories with him.

This version, which had been brewed, built, and concocted by those three foolish families, was an intriguing knockoff. He and Francisca would have preferred the original, but this one… this one would do nicely in a pinch.

With a small chant, his senses broadened, and his eyes glowed with reinforcement as his gaze pierced the physical and travelled into the conceptual.

As he scanned and searched, Caster idly wondered if the knockoff Saint was even remotely aware of the Grail's true purpose...

Not as a wish-maker, not really. More of a gate….

Now then, where was it? Where could it be…. Ah, there it was, slumbering in the conceptual corner twixt reality and imaginary.

Yep, there it was, nice and tucked away. It was almost ready…

Footsteps alerted him to Shirou's approach, and so he disconnected his scanning, his eyes returning to their ordinary, but no less creepy, brown.

Shirou smiled down at him. "Hello Caster. How is the Grail? Did Darnic leave any unwanted surprises for us to discover?"

François Prelati grinned. "Everything looks absolutely ship shape, Mr. Fake Priest! We should be ready very, very soon."

Shirou leveled a flat look at him. "I trust that you will remain true to our bargain."

Caster slapped a hand over the area of the human anatomy where a heart was supposed to be located, as if he were stunned by that accusation. "Why sir! You lack of trust is as a dagger to my heart. As per our deal, Francisca and I will help you gain access to the Holy Grail. If there is one thing that can be said about François Prelati, it would be that I never go back on a deal. That, and I always will help a friend."

At that last bit, he grinned, as he fondly recalled the screams of children.

He then gave a small bow to the unamused priest. "Well, that's all for now. Let me know when you are ready to begin. Ta-ta!"

* * *

As he watched the Caster happily skip off, Shirou let his gaze wander up the Holy Grail, as he took in its entire otherworldly splendor.

Then he looked down upon his right forearm and clenched fist. "There is no turning back now. I will do it. Of that, I am more than certain."

As if in supplication to the lord, he raised his hands and arms towards the wish-granting device. "Those seventeen years, and then the sixty more that I spent in this second life… They have all lead to this. My nerves, cells, flesh, blood, muscles, bones and magical energy… if that is what it will truly take, then I will use them all to the point of eradication, so that salvation may be brought down upon the heads of mankind."

After all, there was no turning back, when one made a deal with the Devil...

* * *

Reika looked about upon the slowly burning city, as blood dripped down her talons, and out of her mouth, and the sight brought a happy smile to her face.

The death! The carnage! It was such fun!

Absentmindedly, as she walked upon the cobblestones, she grabbed a fleeing pedestrian, an ordinary looking man. One look at her, and he started to scream loudly.

A lot of her past clients had been ordinary looking too. In those days, she had usually been the one screaming.

Reika promptly ripped out the man's throat with her fangs, threw her victim to the ground, and then turned to look for her next meal.

A moment later, she found it.

He was a tall man, dressed in the clothes of a priest, and had an eye patch over his left eye. Despite the screams and flames, he was calmly walking towards her, an oddly amiable smile resting on his well-carved face as he set his eye upon her.

She remembered priests. She had had some as clients, before Jackie. All kinds had demanded her services, though most had been Catholic…

This one, however, looked more like a Spanish movie star than a "holy" man of the cloth.

Still, she did not want to be rude, and so gave him her most alluring smile and a clawed wave. "Hi there, father," she said, with a fanged grin and a wink. "Want to have a good time?"

He actually chuckled at the joke. "No, I'm afraid not. Aside from the fact that everything happening around us is a severe mood-killer, you're not really my type."

As he spoke, he calmly slid into a fighting stance.

"That's a very mean thing to say, mister priest. How's a girl supposed to take such an insult? But, if that's the case, then what is your type?"

"The kind that doesn't go rampaging through cities and killing and eating people. I don't think that's too high a bar to set, senorita."

The fact that he was conversing with her like they were old pals should have set off alarm bells in Reika's head. Of course, the key words here were _should_ _have_. Intoxicated by her thirst and kills, such a fact did not really register within the serial killer's twisted mind.

She could almost feel his heartbeat and see the blood coursing through his veins.

With the grin still on her face, she sped forward, hands ready to rip, rend, and tear. "Don't be shy, father. Let's have some fun!"

Due to Jackie's gift of making her a vampire, Reika was much quicker and faster than a human at peak physical performance. To normal humans, it would have seemed as if she were almost teleporting.

Unfortunately for Reika Rikudou, Hansa Cervantes was not a normal human. Without trying, and in a blur of motion, he blocked and gripped her outstretched arm, and then _slammed_ his free and open palm into her chest with the force of a speeding bullet.

As she bent into the blow, and spat out blood and saliva, Reika was sent tumbling back to crash into a wall demolishing it entirely, and then the priest was already dashing forward, fists at the ready. With a snarl, Reika dislodged herself, and pounced.

They were then little more than a blur of claws and fists, though, due to her lack of actual combat ability, the former prostitute had yet to land even a single blow.

Behind the priest, unconsciously called by their maker's distress, a large group of ghouls sought to corner the priest in a pincer move. A second later, they all died a second and bloody death, impaled upon three glowing spears, the wielders of which were identical in appearance and garb and armor, save for their hair; one black, one pink, and one blonde.

Reika then managed to score a lucky strike against the priest's arm, and, to her surprise, the strike let loose a small stream of sparks, and the screech of nails on metal.

As they parted, she got a better look. Her claws had scored a deep slash on his forearm, but, instead of bone, she could see what looked like high-tech machinery. He ignored the bloody wound, and just settled into another fighting stance.

She tilted her head as she also noted the blue symbols on his extended right hand. "You magi are a strange bunch, huh? You really like to make yourselves less than human. You some sort of yucky cyborg or something?"

He gave a thin smile. "It's really none of your business, but yes. As for being less than human, I honestly don't think that you're one to talk."

Reika chuckle as they circled one another. "You really are a rude and polite man. You one of those priests who hates hookers and vampires?"

To her surprise, he shook his head. "Actually no. We are all God's creatures, after all. As for Dead Apostles, well, I really don't have much of a problem with your kind, as long as you don't do something wrong, like attacking a Romanian city for kicks. But, if you do…"

He did not even seem to move, and, in the next moment, her left arm was flying in the air, courtesy of the strange blade that had erupted from his right forearm. Then, he punched her, and Reika went flying, her blood streaming before her.

Thankfully, due to her not being human anymore, she was not dead, but, that still hurt!

However, she then knew that, if she stayed to fight this priest, he could kill her.

She had to get away. She needed to get to Jackie!

As she unsteadily got to her feet and ran, one of the seals on her right hand glowed, before becoming little more than a smudge…

* * *

Outside of Trifas, there was only fire, lighting, and gold. Exploding arrows clashed with a torrent of exquisitely crafted weapons in the sky, and blasted the ground apart.

With a great laugh, the king of Heroes, Gilgamesh, burst forward, with his two swords slamming down onto Karna's drawn dagger and bow. The two then parted and clashed countless more times. In a flash of flame, the Son of Surya burst backwards, an arrow ready on his bow, as he dodged the flurry of the glowing chain that had been wrapped around the King's arm. As he drew it back, his red and black eye glowed, and then his arrow became illuminated with the same color as he pulled the bowstring taut. " **Vijya** : **Brahmastra Kundala!"**

Like a missile, the arrow, now glowing as red as a ruby on fire, shot from the divine bow towards the grinning King of Heroes as he kept forward.

When it collided, the resulting explosion put a nuclear bomb to shame. From it emerged Gilgamesh, laughing like a mad man, and a swarm of flying weapons accompanying him.

Despite himself, a content grin was on Karna's face as he readied more arrows.

Neither was really unscathed, with a myriad of scratches and thin cuts dotting the two archer's forms.

In essence, they were having the time of their lives.

"Hahahahahaha! Yes! A most excellent battle, Son of Surya! Now show me more!"

As he shouted, the amount of portals around him multiplied to become twenty, and then thirty!

Karna's only response was to raise his bow. **"Agnito Mantra!"**

In a blast, 80,000 arrows clashed against more original weapons in a deluge of sparks and explosions.

Two beings, each as close to the divine as possible, and neither backing down; who would fall first?

* * *

Meanwhile, a relatively safe distance away, Achilles and Lancer could not help but watch the battle.

"Should we… be helping?" the son of Thetis asked.

"Who? And besides, you really believe that we should get between those two monsters?" Brynhildr retorted.

Achilles nodded. The two of them both loved combat, Achilles being Achilles, and Brynhildr because that was what she had been created for. Even so, this clash between deities… this was not worth it.

The two were not cowards, but, at this moment, they were more then content to simply watch, the peculiarities of Shirou's orders still turning over their minds with slight confusion.

* * *

Through the burning city, Reika ran as fast as she could, in the hope of putting distance between her and that robot priest, ignoring the stump where her arm had once been. She was not really worried about that. That would get better after a nice meal.

Then, she heard a sound that simply wrenched at her twisted heart. It was Jackie, and she was crying!

She followed the sound, and found her daughter as she appeared out of a blue flash of sparks. She was curled up in a fetal position clutching at the stump of her foot, while tears of pain ran down her cute little face. "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"

Those monsters! What kind of people would want to hurt such a sweet and innocent girl? To think they called themselves heroes! "It's okay. I'm here! I'm here!"

Jackie looked up at her with tearstained cheeks and eyes, which widened briefly in shock at the sight of Reika's missing arm "W-we got to leave, mommy! They're too powerful! It's not safe for us anymore! We have to run away!"

"Yes, Jackie. Of course, we'll leave right now. Here, let me carry you."

Reika then scooped her up so that the Assassin was nestled in her arm, her face buried in the crook of her neck. Her breath was warm on Reika's skin.

As they walked through the slowly burning city, Jackie kept crying. "We're sorry. We ruined everything."

"There, there. You shouldn't talk if you're in pain. Just rest. It will be all right."

"Okay… but… what about our fun plan?"

"Oh, my sweet, cute little Jack. Please, don't worry your little head over that. After all, there is always tomorrow."

Then, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye in front of them, through the flames and smoke and screams and fog. Was it that priest?

No matter, she just had to keep talking to Jack. Her daughter had to be calm. It was all goingto be fine. With a nervous swallow, Reika forced herself to keep walking forward.

Jack's breathing grew steadier as her leg slowly healed. "Hey, mommy?"

Reika made sure her voice was still very calm. "Yes, dear?"

"When we get back, can you play the piano for us again, please?"

The shape held up a glinting thing. "Of course, my little daughter," Reika said with a weary smile. "Just for you."

A moment later, she dropped her to the ground, as the blade imbedded itself through her chest and heart.

As it did, Reika felt her legs grow heavy as she collapsed onto her back with a thud.

Weird, it didn't really hurt. But, why was it getting so hard to move?

As Jack crawled to her and began to cry again, Reika watched out of the corner of her eye as what looked like a shadow slowly approached. No… not a shadow… it was a girl, dressed from head to toe in black clothes and a veil, showing only a pair of dark and piercing eyes. She had thrown the knife.

At least it had not been the polite priest.

It was getting harder to breath with this dagger in her chest.

Reika opend her eyes, and shakingly raised her clawed hand to Jack's sobbing face, and softly caressed it, wiping away her tears with her thumb. "Please, don't cry, my sweet. I should be the sorry one… as I never did thank you, for saving me."

Jack looked up at her in confusion as tears streamed down her face. Reika kept smiling. "So, thank you… my daughter.  
"Please! You can't go! Don't leave us! We don't want you to go!

"This was all I could do for you. It… it was the most wonderful time of my life."

"No! This isn't fair. Please! Don't go! Don't go and leave us!"

"Forgive… me, for not doing more…" As she spoke, the seals on her remaining clawed hand glowed darker then black, and then faded into a sparkling dust that melted into Jack's sobbing form. "I… order you, with my final… command seals. Live… survive… and you'll be just fine… I… promise…"

Huh… everything was now black…

* * *

Her mother's hand then dropped to the ground, and her eyes closed for the last time.

"Mommy! Please. Don't die! Please! Mommy!"

The Serial Killer was so distraught that she did not register her mother's murderer quietly walking towards them, nor did Jack register when the other Assassin spoke a single word.

 **Zabaniya.**

Suddenly, the vampiric servant felt an odd sensation in her chest and on her back, and then everything went black as she collapsed…

* * *

 _Hanging Gardens_

Francisca was laughing so hard that she rolled off her bed. Such anguish and heart wrenching despair never failed to fill her heart with happy glee. It was better than a comedy show!

The part where Jack had started crying, however, was by far the most hilarious to the ancient magus. Of course, any child screaming and crying in pain and agony and sorrow was more than enough to bend Prelati over with laughter.

* * *

Jack the Ripper silently collapsed atop of Reika's corpse, a large, gaping hole where her heart had once been.

As the red arm flicked away the crushed copy of the killer's heart, and retreated back into her spine, the Nameless Assassin stared at the two corpses for a moment, before closing her yes for a brief and silent prayer.

Despite all they had done, this pair had still been little more than a pair of poor and lost souls.

What a terrible and heretical business, this Holy Grail War.

With a sad shake of her head, the Assassin turned to leave. Then, a strange noise made her stop dead in her tracks, and she turned back towards the two corpses.

The corpse of Jack the Ripper was shaking. With a strange snapping noise the body rose up, and then the head twisted 180 degrees with a sickening crunch to look upon the shocked Assassin, as the corpse then began to leak an evil-seeming power

"Why?" the body asked. "Why her?"

A moment later, everything erupted in a burst of foul and putrid fog!

* * *

The blinding fog had caught them all by surprise, and, when it lifted, The Blue Faction was left shocked by the sight that now greeted their collective eyes.

"What the hell is this?" El-Melloi II asked at the scenery about them, as the chariot continued speeding on "Is this some sort of Reality Marble?"

Rider shook his head. "No, but similar. I fear that this is not yet over!"

"If that's the case, the new need to find the others!" Blackmore exclaimed, his grip tight upon his pistol.

The Clock Tower Lord then reached out through the Faction link _'Everyone. We have to regroup! It seems Assassin of Black had one more trick left to play. Stay on your guard, and try to find eachother!'_

Then, he noticed the children, and the voices…

* * *

All the Blue Faction saw in horror at the new enemy around them;

Children. Children of all ages. Some were dressed in rags, other in threadbare clothes that were little better, and other in nothing but dirt, dust and grime, with eyes of blue and red, and little mouths full of fangs. Leading them was a little girl with white hair and dead, fish-like eyes that were bluer than ice, clad only in a tattered black cloak, with a bloody knife clutched in her hand.

Overhead, the sky was thick with choking fog and smoke, and it burned at their eyes and throats.

Then came the voices, full of sorrow and utterly devoid of hope

 _Hungry… I'm cold… I'll make you feel good… please… penny for your time… what did we do wrong? It hurts! HELP US!_

The Blue Faction was at a total loss of what to do. Should they attack? These were children!

As the growing mass of children slowly advanced, the Blue Masters and Servants slowly found themselves being herded towards the center of the strange, yet familiar, city, Even Rider in his Chariot.

Soon enough, they were all back-to-back, surrounded on all sides by children and voices. The fangs glinted in the dim light.

 _Hungry… I'm cold… I'll make you feel good… please… penny for your time… what did we do wrong? It hurts! HELP US!_

Tighter, and tighter did this tragic and unholy noose cinch about the Faction's proverbial neck, even as they reluctantly held their weapons and fists and magecraft at the ready.

Which hero would make the unwanted move, desecrate their title and legend, and attack?

Then, cutting straight through the tension came a single voice. "That's enough, children. It is time for this charade to come to an end."

* * *

The observer looked about at the strange scenery.

It was the London of his youth and life, just as he remembered it, even the choking fog.

He then sighed. Well, looks like it was up to him. No matter, he had what was needed. With a mental command, he dropped his presence concealment, and calmly strode out onto the cobblestone streets of his home, the tap-tap-tapping of his cane catching the ears of the children and the Blue faction.

"That's enough, children. It is time for this charade to come to an end."

* * *

Francisca paused in her laughter at the sight of the recreation of 1800's London and how the strange new Faction was being surrounded and overwhelmed by the ghosts of Jack children, and watched with confusion and a tilted head at the image as it showed the strange man walking through the facsimile of London so calmly, despite all the panic about him.

She and Caster had not been aboard when the fake Priest had confronted the Ruler of this War. He, and the mermaid hag, had not told her or Caster about it, save that it had been a male Servant. As such, she had thought it was just going to be another Saint, that goody two-shoes dragon slayer, for instance, someone who could easily be taken care of. But this person… was not a saint. Nor was it really a Ruler.

"Wait… what kind of Servant is that?"

* * *

Upon making that pronouncement, the Detective calmly sat down upon a nearby bench, and began to smoke his pipe, as the mass of lost children slowly gathered about him. He pointedly ignored their red eyes and fangs. "Are you going to hurt us, mister?" the children asked, in a collective voice.

He shook his head. "Of course not. You have all suffered long enough, children. Even I would never do something so callous."

The child prime, Jack, appeared before him, dressed only in rags, though her eyes and teeth were fangs. "Aren't you scared of us, of Jack the Ripper?"

"Why should I be afraid of miserable victims?"

"Then… are you here to save us?"

Perhaps if he was one of those sorts of heroes, the one who tried to save everyone, then he could be more easily manipulated.

"No."

That single word cut through Jack's certainty like a knife and left only confusion in its wake.

"W-what?"

"There is nothing left of any of you to save. To do so would be a monumentally fruitless endeavor."

"Then what are you going to do?"

He released a puff of smoke. "Simple, I intend to set you all free."

"Why? Do you think you care about us?"

"To be honest, I really don't. I actually find you to be pathetic. I understand that you suffered, Jack. I understand that all any of you ever wanted was warmth and comfort. But, you had no right to hold onto the souls of these other children. You had no right to prolong their suffering, to deny them the peace of salvation, just as you had no right to kill all these people."

Jack's face then twisted into a hateful thing, and the other children reflected her anger. "We are what the world made us to be! It was cruel to us, so we became cruel to it! It tossed us aside, like garbage floating in the Thames, so we did the same! All we ever wanted was a mother, and warmth. Was what we wanted really so wrong?"

He shook his head with closed eyes. "No. It is human nature to lash out when one is suffering. This world is cruel, and wicked and sad and unkind, that I will not deny. I saw more than enough evidence of that, hunting down the worst rogues and villains that had ever spawned from the primordial, chaotic soup that is called mankind."

He then opened his eyes and leveled an even stare at them all, making the reflectively shrink back. "But, this world is also good and kind and vast and wondrous. You just lost sight of all that, it would seem, wandering through the London Fog for so long, that you got lost and turned around. You may have been a child, but you could have been so much more."

Jack's face then turned into something sad. "I guess you're right, mister Detective. So, what now?"

"As I said, earlier, I shall set you all free."

"How? You're not a Saint. You cannot speak any prayers."

"That is true, but what I shall do is speak unto you all your true names, lost children of London. That really is the only actual thing keeping you here, tethered to this hellish existence that is your Jack the Ripper. I shall speak your names, and then it will be just like going to sleep, and, when you wake up, I think that you will all be in a much happier, much kinder place. Just be sure to raise your hands when I call you forth."

As he pulled out the lists that he had found in the old box from the house of the fifth set of victims, and spoke the names, around him came a gentle blue glow that slowly enveloped the entire area. As it touched them, one by one the children's spirits began to dissipate, each with a happy and welcoming smile on their dirty faces.

It took a great deal of time, but he did not stop. As he spoke the last name, the blue glow vanished, the Servant put away the list and his pipe, stood up, and began to walk towards the demon of Whitehall. She did not back away. "It is time for this tragedy to come to an end now, Jack. It's time for you to go home. Your mother is waiting for you, after all."

"Yeah… we want to see mommy again."

The contraptions attached to his waist then began to glow. "By my authority as the Alter Ego of Ruler, Sherlock Holmes, I hereby dissolve your Mystery, Jack the Ripper. This was a distracting little case, I will admit. But, like all things, it had to come to an end. A pity that it could not have been sooner, before all this pointless bloodshed."

He then spoke her true name, with uncharacteristic kindness and gentleness.

With a tired smile, the serial killer began to vanish into sparkles of soft gold light. As she did, Jack the Ripper said one final thing, with a tired smile. "It's funny... but... we're not ready to die yet..."

Upon the Servant of the Shadow's dissipation, there was a great flash of light, and then, instead of London, it was once more the now no-longer-burning-city of Trifas.

Suddenly, all those that had been turned to ghouls collapsed into ash.

The Blue Faction, who had been, reluctantly, prepared to die, gaped about in confusion, both at what had happened, and at the sight of the Great Detective as he approached.

"Greetings, factions of Blue. I am Sherlock Holmes, the Alter Ego of Ruler, and I believe that we all have much to discuss."

"Top notch, bros! That was just awesome! Wicked stuff!"

With a groan, El-Melloi II looked to his left to see Caster walking towards them and flashing his checkerboard grin, followed closely behind by Rider of Black and his master, who looked upon the assembled blue faction with some wary caution. "Where the hell were you?" the lord demanded.

"Where was I? I was hiding, of course, with this pretty chick and her servant! What, ya expected me to actually get involved with all this crazy shit? You know that I detest physical labor of any kind! Besides, I was giving you lot a whole bunch of moral support, from behind the bar's locked doors as I drank a bunch of beers with these two, and had some fun with the hot lady bartender! What more did ya want from me, Big Ben London Super Star?"

"I've told you not to call me that!"

The Famed Detective of 221b Baker Street, the rest of the Blue Faction, Bazett and Cu Chulainn watched with bemusement as the Lord and the belligerent Caster began to argue.

The sound of more footsteps broke up the bickering.

From the north came the Black, their Archer and his Master at the front, and accompanied by a retinue of heavily armed and armored homunculi. The girl in the wheelchair looked them all over, and then spoke. "By the authority of Yggdmillennia, I order you all to tell me what you are doing here, as well as who you are! What is going on? Who killed Assassin of Black?"

Another voice echoed through the night air. "You really wish to know the answer to that?"

Sherlock Holmes turned towards the new arrival with a knowing smile. "Right on time."

Striding towards them from the south was a vision of dark beauty; tall, with long maroon hair that reached past the small of her back, tied as it was in a small group of functional braid/ponytail style, and garbed in a strange, yet functional, bone-like armor and purple gown combination covered in shining runes and buckles and straps. Slung across her back through leather sheathes were a pair of crimson spears, and dangling from an ebony belt on her waist was a long, black wand encrusted with silver filigree and tiny runes. Accompanying her were Archer of Blue, and the Rider, Lancer, and Archer of Red.

Shining though her vambraces and breastplate were twenty-nine shining crimson command seals.

The woman looked over everyone present with eyes redder than blood. "If you do, then I will warn you, it's kind of complicated."

Rider of Black's confused blurt clued everyone in to her identity almost immediately. "TEACHER?! What the hell are you doing here?"

Scáthach, the famed Witch of Dun Scaith, and the teacher of Cu Chulainn, gave a small wave. "Hey, Setanta. As for how I'm here… well, you can blame a shitty Saint for that."

* * *

Mordred was feeling pissed. Because his Master had been taking too damn long, it seemed as if they had already missed the entire battle.

He ran down the cobblestones, with his Master trying his best to keep up. "Christ, Saber, will you slow down?"

"No! Because of you, we probably already missed the whole thing! I'm itching for a bloody fight!"

He followed the strange feeling of power that was emanating from the center of the town, and saw a large group of servants and masters, all apparently deep in conversation.

They looked a right bunch of weirdoes, and… and…

Wait… There, beside that creepy girl who looked just like him…. She knew him from anywhere.

It was him…

Him.

HIM!

With a roar of anger, Mordred's armor materialized about him, with Clarent in hand, and he leapt forward in a burst of red power, the edge of his sword crying out for blood.

"FATHER!"

* * *

 _Preview of the Next Chapter_

 _Hanging Gardens_

It was time.

With a sigh Shirou stood up from the throne room and left, accompanied by Assassin.

"Are you sure this is wise, Master?" she asked.

"Of course it is. It is the best chance for us to succeed."

He rubbed at his right arm. After everything he had gone through, after all the sacrifices and blood, it would all be worth it.

They entered the amphitheater where the grin was stored, and were met by Francisca and Caster.

The boy grinned. "Are you ready?"

Shirou nodded. "Of course. I have waited more than eighty years for this. Caster, if you would be so kind."

As he approached the grail, he shed his cloak and shirt, revealing to all his lean torso, with every inch riddled with scars. His arms, equally scarred, were covered from wrists to mid bicep in arcane scrip, with the right a dark black, and the left a shining blue-white. A moment later, the floor on which he was standing began to rise like an escalator, straight towards the floating sphere.

The Caster nodded. Closing his book, he closed his eyes, and raised his arms, towards the Holy Grail, and began to incant, and the room positively began to hum with a twisted power.

 _I make an offering. To this broken world, I offer blessings and thanks and sacrifices!_  
 _I offer thanks to mother Atë, born the embodiment of madness!_  
 _I offer blessings to the holy spirits of the world, who taught me magecraft, the madness of men!_  
 _O' saint and knight who showed me a different madness, neither of you were mistaken!_  
 _I make an offering! To all humanity, permitted by this broken world, I offer the sacrifice that is me!_  
 **Grand Illusion!**

As a strange glow settled over the orb, Shirou reached forward, put his hands upon the smooth surface, digging in as he did so, and began to _pull_.

After a bit of struggle, he managed to muscle open an entrance of sort. Before was nothing but a bright gold void. Without hesitation, he entered into it, the makeshift entrance closing behind him once he vanished from view.

As Assassin watched, Caster and Francisca grinned.

* * *

It was time.

The goddess had conjured her power, and was now ready to take the cup. Below her the ocean was like an endless stream of blue.

She and her captains rode the living embodiment of her love in great pursuit of the flying fortress, as each beat of its wings sounded through the air like drumbeats.

The broken man of rust and iron sharpened one of his many blades.

The fallen goddess flexed her talons.

The gentleman meditated.

The imperfect hero just glared.

The Fallen emperor growled at nothing.

The priest, the killer, and the dollmaker simply sat quietly, holding onto the spines of their transportation.

Behind her, Gilles stood proud and strong, undaunted by the mighty winds that buffeted about their persons. "What are your orders, my goddess?" he asked

She smiled. "It is simple. Once we reach their flying fortress, we will take the cup."

"But what about the tower? Was it not in a less defensible area? Easier pickings, as it were?"

"Not to worry. When the time is right, then the Tower, and those who bear it, will come to us."

They approached the fortress, unnoticed by its queen.

 **A/N Read, review, and enjoy. Also, in case you are wondering why Brynhilldr is acting differently, then it is simple. This version of her is the one after she defied Odin, but before she was imprisoned, and then met Sigurd. I am sorry if that does not make sense but consider this… there are two versions of Lancer cu chulainn. So please… try not to judge. Also, in case I did not make it clear earlier, in this story, little girl Jack is wearing ACTUAL pants, and a shirt, not something that puts you on the sex-offender registry just for looking at. Come on NASU, I know it's the Fate/Stay franchise (case in point, Ushiwakamaru and Boudica in Stage one), but seriously?! How could anyone ever okay THAT?!**

 **Also, I am sorry if some of you don't like this story. I am trying, okay?**

* * *

Alter Ego/ Ruler: Sherlock Holmes/ ?

 **Stats**

STR: C

END: B

AGI: B+

MAN: A

LCK: A++

N.P.: B

 **Class Skills**

Territory Creation: EX

Item Creation: A+

Detective's Resolution: A (As he was never a saint, he does not have access to God's resolution, merely an "human" version of the skill, which goes hand in hand with one of his Noble Phantasms)

Independent Action: EX.

 **Personal Skills**

Natural Insight: A++

Hypothetical Reasoning: A+

Baritsu: B++

Presence Concealment: EX. Having faked his own death, this unusual skill is the result of Holmes having seemed to have vanished off the face of the Earth for four years while hunting down the remnants of Moriarty's Criminal Empire.

? ? ?: ?

 **Noble Phantasms**

Elementary, My Dear: B

Empty House: B

? ? ?: EX

Holmes is like this because the Counter Force summoned him.

A/N: Made some changes to Holmes. It will be important to the story.

* * *

Saber: Arthur Pendragon

Master: Gray (stats are higher due to her relation with him)

STR: A

END: A+

AGI: B

MAN: A+

LCK: A

NP: EX

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: A

Riding: B

 **Personal Skills**

Instinct: A

Giant Beast Hunting: A

Mana Burst: A

Charisma: B

 **Noble Phantasms**

Excalibur: EX

Invisible Air: C

The Thirteen Treasures of Britain: E-A++

The Once and Future King: ?

* * *

Archer: Gilgamesh

Master(s): Luvia and Sakura Edelfelt

 **Stats**

STR: B

END: B

AGI: B

MAN: A

LCK: A

NP: EX

 **Class Skills**

Independent Action: A+

Magic Resistance: C

Divinity: B

 **Personal Skills**

Charisma: A+

Golden Rule: A

Collector: EX

Treasury of Babylon: EX

 **Noble Phantasms**

Enuma Elish: EX

Gate of Babylon: E-A++

Bab-ilu: -

Enki: EX

Sha Naqba Imuru: EX

* * *

Lancer: Valkyrie 

Master: Hansa Cervantes

 **Stats**

STR: B

END: B

AGI: B

MAN: A+

LCK: E

N.P.: B

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: B

Divinity: A

 **Personal Skills**

Primordial Rune: -

Swan mystic Code: A

Fateweaver: B

 **Noble Phantasms**

Ragnarök Lífþrasir: B

Gungnir (False): B

* * *

Rider: Iskander 

Master: Lord El-Melloi II

 **Stats**

STR: B

END: A

AGI: D

MAN: C+

LCK: A+

N.P.: EX

 **Class Skills**

Riding: A+

Magic Resistance: D

Divinity: C

 **Personal Skills**

Charisma: A

Military Tactics: B

Lightning Conqueror: EX

 **Noble Phantasms**

Ionioi Hetairoi: EX

Via Expugnatio: A+

* * *

Berserker: Jack 

Master: Flat Escardos 

The fact that this even happens pours more confusion onto whom or what Jack the Ripper actually was.

 **Stats**

STR: -

END: -

AGI: -

MAN: -

LCK: -

N.P.: B

 **Class Skills**

Mad Enhancement: Sealed

 **Personal Skills**

Thousand Faces: A

Wanderer of the Misty Night: B

 **Noble Phantasms**

From Hell: A+ - E-

Natural Born Killers: B

* * *

Caster: Alexandre Dumas 

Master: Dan Blackmore

 **Stats**

STR: D

END: C

AGI: D

MAN: B++

LCK: A++

N.P.:?

 **Class Skills**

Territory Creation: A

Item Construction: EX

 **Personal Skills**

Enchant: A

Sublimation: A+

Observation from the eyes of the Castle: EX

Independent Action: EX. Due to having traveled quite extensively in his life all around the globe in search of adventure, Caster has an unusually high rank in this skill for his class, despite his relatively young legend.

Ear of the Common man: A++

 **Noble Phantasm**

Musketeer's Masquerade: ?

* * *

Assassin: No-Name Assassin

Master: Elsa Saijou

 **Stats**

STR: C

END: B

AGI: A

MAN: B

LCK: D

N.P: A

 **Class skills**

Presence Concealment: A-

Independent Action: A

 **Personal Skills**

Zealotry: A

Projectile (Daggers): B

Protection from Wind: A

 **Noble Phantasm**

Zabaniya


	7. Chapter 7

Blood, Obsidian, Ocean Chapter 7

The kingly Saber of the Blue Faction swiftly blocked Clarent with a sword that the Knight of Treachery seemed to have never seen before; a thing with a white hilt and a flaming blade.

The collision of the blades of the two Servants of the Sword created what could only be described as a sonic boom. The attack took all the Masters of each faction by surprise, while most of the Servants just observed with a wary interest. The teacher of Cu Chulainn just looked bored.

With a grunt and a pant, Kairi finally caught up to her, bent over as he was, and wheezing.

Damn it! Maybe he really smoked too freaking much. Five years ago, that sort of run would not have been as taxing as it was now… but that was not important right now.

All watched as Mordred's Clarent and Saber of Blue's blazing white sword clashed almost ten times in a minute, before Mordred's father pushed her blade away with pure strength and finesse.

Then, a moment later, Saber of Red found herself tightly bound in chains that had erupted from gloving portals, courtesy of the bored-looking Archer of Blue. "Cease the snapping of your jaws at your sire, rapid pup. We do not have time for this," the Golden man said, arms crossed.

The once and future king of Britain and Camelot gazed upon his angered and struggling child with a somewhat blank expression, both of whom did not reply to the Archer of Blue.

"Hello, Mordred. It's been a long time," the King of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon said.

"Shut up, you bastard! I'm going to kill you, you uncaring piece of shit! You're going to pay! I'll make you pay for what you fucking did to me!"

Damn it. Kairi needed to do something, and so he held up his right hand. "Saber, by the power of my command seal, I order you to stop and calm down!"

As the middle portion of the helmet-like symbol disappeared from the back of Kairi's hand, leaving only the jaw, all could see as the Saber of Red physically struggled and fought with all her will as the seal-enforced command settled into her very being and core.

However, despite Moredred's considerable willpower, Kairi watched as she eventually ceased struggling, the only sound now being her angry panting.

With a condescending chuckle, Archer of Blue snapped his fingers, and the chains unfurled and retreated back into the glowing portals.

Even then, all could see Mordred trembling with rage as she glared upon her father, Arthur Pendragon, who returned her angry and wrathful gaze with a disturbing lack of emotion.

Kairi could tell that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

Fiore Yggdmillennia looked about then cleared her throat. "As I asked earlier, what is going on? Aside from Lord El-Melloi II and Kairi Sisigou, who are all of you?"

The tall, armored woman with the two spears shook her head long maroon tresses. "It's complicated."

The paraplegic magus sighed. "Very well. Might I suggest that we all head back to the Castle? It will be safer to have this conversation there."

Kairi could tell that she was trying to make that suggestion seem more like a threat. It was a good try, but against the likes of Lord El-Melloi II and Scathach (yeah, he had overheard that bit, which was terrifying in and of itself)… yeah, it was a good try.

The tall woman shrugged. "Fine by me. Besides, if any of you lot tried anything, I can still walk out without a scratch, and that's _without_ my three shiny new Servants."

Everyone could not help but be intimidated by the casual way she said that last sentence.

Then, with little ceremony, they all hustled off towards the looming castle, save for Mordred, who lagged behind, staring at her father's retreating back.

Kairi walked up to her with some trepidation. As he did, he heard her whisper "always looking at his damned back."

Kairi quashed the temptation to reach out. "Saber?"

The glare she leveled his way could have burned down a mountain. Then, she shook her head. "I'm fine, Master. Let's go."

* * *

El-Melloi II had been, understandably, a bit reluctant to enter The Millennia Castle. Of course, he was also reluctant to be anywhere in the overall vicinity of Scathach, the Root-damned Witch of the Shadowlands, a woman that was factually known among the Moon-lit world to be not only a god-killer, but also unable to be killed!

Still, he swallowed his reluctance, and, now, he found himself in one of the Castle's opulent throne rooms, somehow left intact after the Red Faction's theft of the Grail.

He only felt slightly assured by the presence of his fellow faction members.

Sherlock Holmes (El-Melloi II managed to keep himself from going numb with excitement at the idea that he was in the same room as one of his historical and literary idols) simply smoked his pipe, slowly filling the room with fragment fumes, alongside Kairi Sisigou and his noxious cigarettes.

From the top of the dais, Fiore Yggdmillennia looked about, swallowed, and cleared her throat. By her side, her centaur Servant stood firm and protectively. "Now, then, I would greatly require an explanation. First off, what are you, Lord El-Melloi II, doing here? How are you and your cohorts in possession of Servants? How is there a third faction? The Reserve system only contains enough power for two."

The reluctant heir of the Melloi family sighed, rubbing at his right hand as he spoke. "Honestly, I have no idea how to answer those questions, save for what I am doing here. Several days ago, the rest of my faction and I suddenly, and rather painfully, developed command seals, as if they were being carved into our flesh. At least, until Dan Blackmore, the Edelfelt Sisters, and Father Cervantes here told me that they had developed theirs almost two months ago.

"After I and my two students here," he gestured to Flat and Gray, "gained ours, we immediately headed towards Romania, almost drawn to the others, and, having met up with them, we all summoned our Servants, save for Sir Blackmore, who had summoned his much earlier. As I just said, though, none of us have any idea how such a thing occurred, or why a third, unregistered faction such of ours even came into existence in the first place, even with the Grail's Reserve system in full effect."

The Yggdmillennia Heiress nodded. "Does the Clock Tower know that you are even here, Lord Melloi?"

He fought the urge to correct her. "No. Honestly, with the way things are going now, I would prefer if that continued, though, I am not sure how long that is going to last now."

"Why are you being so remarkably forthright about all of this information, Lord El-Melloi?"

He had to admit, that was a good question. "Because, I don't see any point in secrecy at this point. This entire Grail War has already started going to straight to shit."

The girl nodded, and then looked towards the silent Ruler Servant, puffing away on his pipe. "When did the Grail summon you, Mr. Holmes?"

The Detective of Baker Street then cleared his throat. "I was not summoned by the Grail. Neither were the Servants of the Blue Faction, as a matter of fact… At least, not directly."

His answer left everyone, espescially the Blue Faction, shocked to their core. "What?"

"No, in fact, I was not even supposed to be a part of this War. That honor was supposed to be given to one Jeanne d'Arc, the Saint of Orleans, but something happened to her, and, as such, I was brought forth in her place. I, and the Servants of Blue, am here through the intervention of the Counter Force, the collective unconscious that strives to protect humanity. However, that is not important, at least, not yet. What is important, on the other hand, is the fact that the Red Faction's leader, Shirou Kotomine, is actually a Servant, the Ruler-class servant, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, a leftover from the Third Holy Grail War of Fuyuki."

That got everyone's attention. The portly man near the dais, Goldorf Musik, if El-Melloi II remembered correctly, seemed to explode with disbelief. "A Servant? Are you shitting us, Ruler? That's impossible! A servant cannot last for so long without a steady source of prana! Darnic would have known! You are lying to us, aren't you?"

The look that the Great Detective leveled the man's way quickly shut him up, and then Holmes promptly ignored the rotund man entirely. "Of course, perhaps, I should be using the past tense in regards to the Youthful Saint, as, with the presence of the good lady Scathach here, he is more than likely dead."

The aforementioned woman nodded, as she casually leaned against the wall. "You would be correct, Mr. Detective. The Saint is dead. He died roughly an hour ago, when the remainder of his command seals transferred to me."

She then gestured to her chest and arms. "These are proof, the stipulation of a bargain that he and I struck sixty years ago."

Fiore leaned forward in her wheel chair. "What sort of bargain?"

"In exchange for my help in locating a relic that he needed for this War, as well as information, he offered me his command seals and the contracts of three servants, should he fall, as well as a chance at hunting down an old adversary. I was bored, and honestly a little intrigued, so I accepted. Though, I actually never thought it would happen…."

* * *

 _Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Earlier_

It was time.

With a sigh, Shirou stood up from his seat at the base of the throne room's Dais, and left, accompanied by Assassin.

"I will inquire of you once more. Are you sure that this is wise, Master?" she asked.

He did not even hesitate in his answer. "Of course it is. This is the best chance for us to succeed."

He rubbed at his right arm as he spoke. After everything that he had endured, after all the sacrifices, bloodshed, and deals, it all came down to this moment. It would have to be worth it.

They entered the amphitheater where the Greater Grail resided, and were met by the grinning Francisca and Caster.

The boy's grin widened at Shirou's approach. "Are you ready, Mr. Fake Priest?"

The Apocryphal Saint nodded. "Of course. I have waited more than eighty years for this. Caster, if you would be so kind?"

As the Leader of the Shimabara Rebellion approached the Grail, he shed his cloak and shirt, revealing to the world his lean, tanned torso and arms, with every inch of them riddled and pockmarked with scars of varying size and depth. His arms then began to glow, as arcane script covered them from wrist to mid bicep, with the left a brilliant and holy light blue-green, and the right a dark and sinister shade of black-crimson. As he continued his stride, flat discs of arcane construction, courtesy of Semiramis, phased into existence before him, creating a staircase of sort towards the center of the floating orb, which he began to ascend.

As Shirou walked ever closer towards his destiny, Caster then nodded. Shutting his blasphemous tome, François Prelati closed his eyes and then raised his arms towards the Greater Holy Grail, and began to incant, the words filling the air with a twisted power.

 _I make an offering. To this broken world, I offer blessings and thanks and sacrifices!_  
 _I offer thanks to mother Atë, born the embodiment of madness!_  
 _I offer blessings to the holy spirits of the world, who taught me magecraft, the madness of men!_  
 _O' saint and knight who showed me a different madness, neither of you were mistaken!_  
 _I make an offering! To all humanity, permitted by this broken world, I offer the sacrifice that is me!_  
 **Grand Illusion!**

His Noble Phantasm now activated, a strange and unsettling glow and haze settled upon the floating orb. Meanwhile, Shirou kept climbing. Once he was no more than a foot from the surface of the Wish-Granting device, Shirou put his glowing hands upon the stony exterior of the Grail, digging in his fingers as he did so, and then began to _tug and pull_.

After a bit of an effort and a struggle, the Saint managed to muscle open an entrance of sorts. Before him was what seemed to be the interior of the Grail, and there seemed to be nothing but a bright, glowing, golden void, endless in expanse. Without hesitation, Shirou strode forward into the unknown, with the strong-armed entrance slowly closing behind him once he vanished from view.

As the Ancient Empress of Assyria watched with some slight trepidation, Francisca and Caster grinned….

* * *

It was time.

The goddess and her followers had trailed the Cup's thieves to the ocean, but had been undaunted. Instead, the goddess had conjured her power, and they now stood posed and ready to take the cup from the hands of the unworthy and unloved.

Below them, below her, the ocean streamed past like an endless road of blue. She, Gilles, and their proud and noble captains rode the living and summoned embodiment of her love and power in great pursuit of the flying castle of the thieves, each motion of the legs of the giant waded through the ocean and sounded through the air like the drumbeats of her fellow divines, while the voice of her new loves and protectors caressed her ears.

Despite the great heat radiating from the giant's carapace none of the passengers felt the least bit of discomfort.

 **You are getting closer, our goddess, our queen, and our love. The cup shall bring your armies forth and forward, and they will deliver unto you the keys to the tower. Then, we will be free…**

She smiled at the comforting voice, and then turned to gaze upon her captains.

The broken man of rust and iron meditated in prayer as he sharpened one of his many blades, his mismatched eyes empty and yet all seeing, engrossed as he was in his task.

The fallen goddess coiled about the broken soul, flexing her talons, as if she were eager to rend the throats of the deserving.

The Gentleman spoke into a strange device that he had acquired from a village that they had passed through, one of many where she had panted the seeds of her love, ready to sprout at but a notice.

The imperfect hero simply glared at his compatriots.

The betrayed emperor growled and rumbled at all that was about him.

Behind them, the priest, the killer, and the doll maker just sat quietly, holding onto the spines.

Behind her, Gilles stood strong, the banner of the Goddess held proudly in his armored hand. Despite the mighty winds buffering about, and the blistering cold from the height, he did not even close his eyes.

The giant simply rumbled, a sound that seemed to shake the earth itself, while it gripped its sword tightly.

He then spoke. "The fortress of the thieves and heretics is in sight, my Goddess. Tell me your commands, and I shall carry them out."

The true devotion in his voice made her smile wider. "It is quite simple. Once we reach the fortress, we shall embrace all who reside within it with our love, and take the cup into our hands."

"Of course. But, if I may dare to question you?"

"Gilles, please. It is all right. Tell me your thoughts and concerns."

"Very well. It is about the tower. It was within our grasp. Would it not have been more advantageous to have secured it first?"

"An understandable concern, my General, but alas, to safely get it, we first need our armies. Not to worry though, for once we hold the cup, then the tower, and those who hold it with them, will come willingly to us."

Gilles nodded in loyal understanding.

As they drew closer to the soaring fortress, unnoticed by its queen…

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

"Who was this adversary?" El-Melloi II asked.

Scathach stood up from the wall. "A twisted and vile little creature, unburdened by morality, and _evil_ in every sense and translation of the word…"

* * *

 _Unknown_

It was a scene of horror that greeted his eyes, and one that was wholly familiar to him, to his sorrow.

A castle in flames… the ground scorched to cinders… and, all about him, he heard the screams… men, women, and children, each either dead or dying, all the while crying out for salvation.

 _Please, listen to us… you don't have to suffer anymore, just go back… there is no need for you to do this…_

Almost in uniform, they appeared on either side of him, endless rows of desiccated and decaying corpses. All shambled towards him, tears dripping from the sockets of their eyes.

 _It's already too late… much to late… someone life you never deserved to be here… you killed us all… don't you hate us… we killed them all, your father, your mother, your friends and comrades…_

He ignored their outreaching, grasping hands, none of which actually touched him.

 _They all died screaming, everyone you cherished… don't you hate us… do you not despise us…_

He did not even look at them, his eyes practically glued to the horizon in front of him as he kept walking, and yet, he felt compelled to answer the voices out loud. "I am free of emotions. No more hatred, no more sorrow. To survive and save humanity, I had to discard them. So no, I don't hate you. I don't hate any of you. I came to peace with what happened, long ago."

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw an intimately familiar sight that actually made him pause, though he did not turn his head to look upon it.

It was that of a young man, no more than seventeen years of age, with pale skin and long black hair. His clothes were little more than ragged rags, and his skin was covered in fresh and bloody scars. Most gruesome, however, were the two jagged and bloody stumps where his arms had once been.

For a good while, Shirou simply stood there, unmoving, as he considered that boy's fate. Then, he continued walking forward, leaving the echoes of his past behind him. As he did, the scenery began to change…

* * *

Semiramis' eyes were glued to the spot of the Grail where her master had disappeared.

Francisca saddled up to her, while Caster remained where he stood, his eyes closed and chanting. "You know, that is a strange expression on your wrinkled face, Mermaid Hag. What's on your mind?"

With an annoyed look, and a flick of the Empress' hand, black chains erupted from the floor, tightly encircled, the diminutive magus/ creature, and sent her crashing to the floor with a yelp of surprsie.

Despite the tight constriction about her, Francisca seemed more annoyed and inconvenienced than in any actual pain. Meanwhile, Caster remained focused in his chanting. "Ouchie! What's your problem, you big meanie?"

The Empress of Assyria glared down upon the vile creature with the austerity that she had inherited from her divine ancestry. "It has always bothered me why my master, as kindly as he is, deigned to work with you, despite knowing full well what you are. So, I suppose now is as good a time as any to ask."

Francisca giggled, even as she remained tied to the ground. "It's kind of a funny little story. We actually met during the Third Holy Grail War. It was my third time participating, after all. My Servant, a useless and vengeful little Berserker, had been killed off rather early, but I decided to remain behind to watch the rest of the War unfold. I had to admit, I was greatly surprised with how things turned out.

"After the War, he managed to track me down, and asked for my help."

"Why?"

"Because, somehow, he found out that I had been involved in the Grail's very creation, along with those three useless families, and thus needed my assistance in manipulating it. At first, I just wanted to devour him, digest his bones and prana and call it a day, but, then, he told me what his wish entailed, and the lengths he was willing to go to in achieving it… and, I became intrigued. How often does one get the chance to see a Holy Saint debase himself so? It was such a _delicious_ opportunity, and so… I agreed to help him, to assist him in gaining access to the Grail."

As Semiramis processed this information, Francisca then spoke again. "So, that being the case, I have to know… Do you want him to succeed? Save humanity and all that shitty jazz, or… perhaps you also want him to fail as well?"

Semiramis said nothing in response to this admittedly cutting question. Then, she shrugged. "I will admit that I find it to be rather tempting; the despair of a Saint… such a thing would be a rare delicacy indeed, as you noted, little beast, and one that I have yet to witness. But, more than that, what I want is for him to succeed. I want to witness that scene which he has sacrificed so much, that which he desires more than anything, from the bottom of his heart; the pure and total Salvation of Humanity. After all this time, how much further will he still allow himself to go? What does he still have left to show us, those who he wants to save? To see it… that is what I truly desire."

She then turned and looked down towards the bound creature on the floor, raised her hand, and a plethora of glowing circles flashed into existence around Francisca, each ready to riddle her with mana blasts. "As such, that is why I will kill you now, you little creature. I know your kind. You seek chaos and death for no purpose other than your own twisted enjoyment. As one who bears the title of 'hero,' even I cannot bear to see you exist any longer in this world."

After processing this statement, as the circles began to glow, Francisca then began laughing, despite her situation, catching the ancient Empress completely off guard.

"What's so amusing, you twisted creature?"

"Ha hahahaha! Sorry… it's just that, during all my time on this world, there has always been one thing that I've repeatedly noted about heroes, demi-gods, and empresses, no matter who they are or where they are from…."

"What are you babbling about?"

"What I had noticed was that those types of people are always so focused on their grand destinies, on the insurmountable tasks that fate sets in front of them, that…"

"That what?"

The monster's smile grew toothy and wrong. "That they never notice the danger behind or beside them before it's too late."

Semiramis then realized that Caster had stopped chanting. As she turned, the Servant of the Shadows did not notice the danger until it was too late, as Francisca had noted.

Several swords impaled themselves through her limbs, sending her crashing to the floor in a bloody heap, while her outstretched arm flew in the opposite direction

As she lay there, trying to remain conscious through the pain and trying not to scream, Semiramis heard the sound of footsteps. In a flash of light, a group of persons that had not been there before were now walking into the amphitheater. How had she not detected…. Caster's Noble phantasm! The damn illusionist!

Almost as if he could detect her deductions, Caster turned and grinned at her.

Everyone of this new group shared the same, strange features of white hair, pale flesh, yellow eyes, and red and black veins spread across their skin.

But, at the head of this group was an even more strange and unsettling being. It was a woman, beautiful, if a bit short. Her armor was as black as night. Above her head floated a crown that never seemed to stay in one shape or form.

But her shadow… it was her shadow that made the ancient Empress of Assyria try to back away as fast as possible, despite the fact that several blades pinned her to the floor.

It was in the shape of a coiled and deformed dragon, and, despite it being a shadow, it seemed like it was looking right at Semiramis.

The strange and unsettling woman walked right up Semiramis with a smile, ignoring her struggles, knelt, gently put her hands on the sides of the Empress' head, and… kissed her.

Pain. Ungodly pain flooded every iota of the Ancient Poisoner's being, and she screamed into the woman's mouth, unable to pull away as the kiss and pain intensified.

Then, through the pain, she felt another, much odder sensation…. This woman, this thing… it was absorbing her!

 _Master…_

As all feeling and sensation left her, she heard the strange and frightening woman say, "I will love you forever, as you become a part of me. For that, I thank you."

Then, there was nothing…

* * *

 _The Grail_

"So, this is it. I've finally reached it. This is the Heaven's Feel."

Where once there were burning ruins, now it was an endless field of flowers with silver, red, and gold petals. Overhead, the Sky was clear and blue.

He looked about in surprise and awe at the scene around him, before his eyes then settled on a sight that was at once familiar, and yet not familiar to the Apocryphal Saint.

Standing before him was a woman, pale of skin and white of hair, with closed eyes. She was almost a mirror image of the homunculus who had summoned him, all those years ago in Fuyuki.

 _…A trembling body, cradled in his arms in the snow, as single tear of blood slid down her_ _face. Then, a whispered_ "I'm sorry…."

Unlike his former master, however, this one was clad in a breathtakingly raiment of gold, ivory, crimson, and silver, which glittered kindly in the sunlight.

As he looked at her, she opened her eyes, revealing two clear orbs of red, and she smiled at him.

"Welcome," she said, in a husky voice. "Have you come to make a wish, to activate the Third True magic?"

* * *

The goddess stood up, and looked up at the Greater Grail. She then reached out her hand, and from it spewed forth a torrent of dark energy, which began to slowly encircle the Grail…

* * *

Before Shirou could reply, a great cacophony suddenly burst into auditory existence, like the shriek of the damned. Meanwhile, the sky began to darken, and the flowers started to whither and die.

In front of him, the woman suddenly _flickered_ , and then… she smirked at him, and the expression was a terrible and wrong thing to behold, while her garb grew black and crimson, and her eyes turned a sickly gold.

"It seems that you are now too late, former Servant. You may go now."

 _The Starting penalty is five..._

Everything flashed…

* * *

The dark orb then let loose one last burst of golden light, and from it was expelled Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, the Apocryphal Saint of Shimabara, garbed in his original servant attire, with the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo ready to spill blood.

But, before he could even engage in an epic duel to the death against the invaders, Shirou felt several black appendages wrap themselves around his limbs, just as a large number of swords were suddenly impaled through his chest in a great spurt of blood and viscera.

The Miike Tenta Mitsuyo kell to the stone floor with a clatter.

Despite the blood running down his chin, and the weapons impaling him through his chest and arms, Shirou seemed…unfazed.

As he slowly looked down, he saw Francisca looking up at him, and laughing.

"I see," Shirou said to Francisca as the appendages slammed him to the ground, coughing up more blood as he did so. "You betrayed me."

Francisca giggled, skipped right up to him, and then lightly patted the former Ruler on the cheek. "That's one way of looking at it. But, in my defense, I did fulfill my end of our little bargain, Mr. Fake Priest. I promised to help you gain access to the Grail. I just never promised to help you actually succeed in achieving your stupid wish. I just needed the door open, so that now, my goals can be accomplished."

"And… what goals would those be?"

"Now, now. That would be telling, and I don't want to tell you, as I am really not one for villainous monologues. But, I will thank you for the extra servants, and the command seals, which I will be taking now"

She then reached for his chest, her hand glowing. As she did, to her visible surprise, Shirou actually laughed, making her pause. "What's so funny, Mr. Priest?"

"All those years ago, when we struck our bargain, I knew that I was making a deal with the devil. A saint and a demon… never was there a better or worse match made in hell."

"So?"

He kept laughing. "So, when one does such a thing, you should always make sure to create an escape clause, even if you're a Saint."

Francisca raised an eyebrow as she looked upon the impaled priest. "You actually think that you can worm your way out of this?"

"No, not me, but I did help three others escape. I was sad that it required the sacrifice of Semiramis, and that I had to keep her in the dark, but, at least Lancer and Archer and Rider will be free to fight you."

"What are you talking about?"

Before she could do anything else, the seals on his chest glowed through his shirt, and then suddenly vanished, when a rune on his forehead that had not been there before suddenly and briefly glowed, before vanishing along with the command seals.

Her eyes wide, she yanked out one of the weapons in his shoulder, ignoring his grunt of pain as she did so, and swiftly cut open his shirt. All she saw was just tan and scarred skin. The crimson command seals were gone, and along with the contracts to Rider, Archer, and Lancer.

"What just happened? Where are they? Tell me where they are, you fucking fake priest!"

At her minor outburst, Shirou actually started to laugh. "When Risei Kotomine, the man who adopted me after the Third War, let me go my own way as Fuyuki burned, a day that he marked as my birthday in this new time, he gave me a very strange gift; twelve pristine command seals, left over from the first three Fuyuki Wars. Even I did not have a need for so many, so… I used them as collateral when I struck a second bargain."

"Who with? Whom did you transfer their contracts to?"

He smiled a bloody thing. "Oh, I think you know. As you once so succinctly put it, she's 'that consoling witch who is eternally alive.'"

Francisca's eyes actually widened in surprise.

"I knew the moment that I shook your hand that you were working some sinister plot, and that it would involve my death, so, I had a plan B ready. In return for her help in securing Semiramis' relic, I gave her first my adopted father's gift, as well as information on you, and access to the rest of the seals, and any Servant contracts I would procure in the future. I guarantee that she has not forgotten you, Prelati, and she is _hungry_ for revenge. As of this moment, The Witch of The Shadowlands now has all twenty-nine of my Command Seals, along with Archer, Lancer, and Rider…" He paused to cough up some phlegm and blood. "Whatever you're planning… you're going to lose."

Francisca looked at him blankly for a long moment, as he knelt there, slowly bleeding out onto the darkening ground, and then… she laughed. The little monster laughed so loud and so long that she had to bend over, with tears dripping down her cheeks. Horrifically though, the mirth did not reflect in her wide eyes. In fact, it may have been a trick of the light, but… he thought that she actually seemed scared.

She then slapped him across his smiling face, _hard_ ; so much that Shirou felt his left eyeball become brutally dislodged from its socket to end up rolling on the floor. She then beamed at him toothily as she wiped her eyes. "Thanks so much for the laugh, Mr. Fake Saint. I'll be sure to remember it to as I walk over that immortal witch's undying corpse. Any last words before you die, a deathbed confession, perhaps? I did used to be a cardinal after all."

He looked at her with his one remaining eye, coughing and spitting up more blood as he did so. It was getting so hard to breath. "I have only one thing to say, Prelati… I will forgive you all your sins."

With a final chuckle at that statement, the ancient magus snapped her fingers.

With a transparently bored and emotionless expression in his mismatched eyes, The Broken soul of Rust and Time walked up behind Shirou and beheaded the Youthful Rebel with the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo. As the light went out of Shirou's eyes, and the feeling left his body and limbs, he thought he heard the killer murmur, "And I will remember your death."

* * *

As the body and head of the slain Saint fell to the ground with two wet splats before dissipating, the goddess' captains, along side Francisca and Caster, watched as the darkness emanating from the goddess' hand continued to swarm about and fill up the Greater Grail, and the last bit of gold light was extinguished.

A strange and terrible droning could be heard from it and all about, getting steadily louder, until the droning became a voice, and what the voice said was indeed a terrible thing, even as it spoke like it was reverently reciting a passage from the Bible…

 _The starting penalty is five. Life penalty, body penalty, freedom penalty, fame penalty, fortune penalty. Give the penalty that extends so much punishment, mud, darkness, and malice. "Elimination of human rights by castration, exile, execution" "Torture and sadism upon the body through digestion" "Denial by consensus of the colony that eliminates all honor"_

 _die_

 _"Scorn from the judgment and selfishness that takes away men's fortunes." death penalty penal servitude imprisonment custody fine penalty, crime from a grudge, crime from self-interest, unconscious crime, self-conscious crime, civil war, inducement, false statement, theft, robbery, kidnap, suicide, rape, arson, bombing, violation, negligent homicide, mass violence, death at work, overconfident accident,_

 _die_

 _misdiagnosis, concealment, violation for benefit, violation for self-protection, violation for love, violation for respect, selfish █████. Stealing fraudulent fraud concealment murder theft crime crime personal grudge attack attack attack attack dirty dirty dirty you are dirty atone atone atone atone every violence every crime every victim atone for everything "This world is ruled by something not human" Know the conscience to reform crimes._

 _die_

 _die_

 _die_

 _Know the penalty to reform crimes. People's kindness is here. There is so much it cannot be noticed. Know the violence to hide crimes. Know the power to hide crimes. People's malignance is here. It is so rare that it is noticed. A hundred kindnesses and one malignance. Malignance shines bright to keep the balance and exists as a great "evil" to compete with the masses of kindness. The starting penalty is five_

 _die_

 _die_

 _die_

 _die_

 _die_

 _die_

 _█ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self inducement, false statement, theft, robbery, kidnap, suicide, rape, arson, infringement, dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty you are dirty atone atone atone atone atone atone every violence every crime every victim atone atone atone with death!_

Then, from the fissure in the center of the Grail, amorphous figures began to drip out, while the Draconic Banner that Gilles firmly held in his hands began to glow.

There was a flash of black light, and then, sssembled and kneeling before the goddess and Gilles were fourteen knights, each clad in lordly armor and weapons.

The goddess recognized each of them, and smiled. "It's good to see you again, my friends. Please, rise."

They did, rising as one, and she saw their heraldry marked clear and plain upon their steel breast plates: the three flour-de-lis of Alencon, the green tree of Aulon, the black lion of Baudricort, the three wheat sheathes of Brosse... all the way to the white lions and red crosses of Xaintrellis.

Her loyal knights, once more at her side, and ready for war, while their forces were but an order away from materialization.

The goddess then turned to her other captains. "We have access to our armies. Now, we will head towards the Mountain."

Gilles nodded, drew his sword, and turned towards Francisca and Gilles. "Of course, now, if you would allow me, I will rid the World of the stain of these two monsters."

Caster laughed. "What's wrong, Gilles? Not happy to see an old friend?"

Before the wrathful Saber Alter could cut down the blasphemous former Cardinals where they stood, the goddess barred her general and friend's path with her arm. "There is no need for that, my friend."

"No need? Do you not remember who he is? What he did, to you, to me?"

The smile never left her face. "Of course I remember. But these two… they have already accepted my love. They are more than willing to help me, help us in achieving our goals, so to atone for the sins of the past. As such, I have absolved them. I only ask that you do the same."

Others would have hesitated, but Gilles did not. He sheathed his sword, and bowed before her. "Of course, my goddess. Your word is my command."

Still, he did shoot the demonic pair a glare as he rose from his bow.

Francisca chuckled. "Well then, shall we get going, friends?"

As they all headed towards the throne room, one remained behind for a moment.

The brown-and-white-haired priest looked down at the spot where Shirou Kotomine's body had once laid, his golden crucifix glinting briefly.

Then, he shook his head, and walked away.

* * *

 _Millennia Castle, Now_

"Trust me," Scathach said. "Whatever the _thing_ that calls itself Prelati is planning, then I can assure you all that the World will end up suffering greatly for it, if we don't act as soon as possible. From what I saw in my scrying in the Shadowlands before coming here, that fortress of theirs is heading towards the ocean, in the direction of Japan."

El-Melloi II swore loudly. That meant there was only one place they could be going, and thus things had defiantly gotten more complicated. "Fuck. They're going to Fuyuki. So, in that case, what can we do now?"

The Caster of Black then cleared his throat, rubbed his bearded chin. "With the way things are now, we should be able to move out with a sufficient force of homunculi in about a day, if you think it best, Lady Fiore."

Everyone in the room looked towards the girl in the wheelchair, who seemed to be doing her best not to squirm under all the attention.

"I-I must consider all our options. Excuse me, please."

To everyone else, that was the unofficial signal to disperse until further notice.

As everyone left, Chiron quickly shot Caules a knowing look, which did not go unnoticed by the Caster of Blue…

* * *

 _Later_

Caules looked at his sister as they ate their little midnight meal. She then noticed. "What is it?" she asked.

He sighed, and then cleared his throat. "I was just wondering what you are going to do, Fiore."

"What do you mean?"

"If what Scathach told us was true, then every moment that we linger here gives Prelati longer to move forward in whatever plan it has for the Grail. Of course, that is without taking into account what the Magus Association will do, once that fortress leaves our territory."

She looked down into her lap. "I already know that, Caules."

The bespectacled boy looked out the window, at the slowly rising sun. "Yggdmillennia had put everything we had into this rebellion; our blood, our magical energy, our wealth, and even our flesh… so, if we were to lose now, then it would have all been for nothing."

"… I am extremely aware of that as well, little brother."

Caules would have been a fool not to register the hesitation in her voice. "Listen," he said, turning back from the window to look his sister straight in the eye. "If you, as a mage, truly desire to seek the Holy Grail, then we need to depart as soon as possible. Tomorrow, even."

"I told you, I know that already!" She all but screamed at him. "What exactly are you trying to prove here, Caules?"

Despite her outburst, she held his gaze for but a moment, and then looked away.

He resisted the urge to sigh. It seemed that Chiron was right.

Still, he had to make sure. "I just… I think that this is a turning point for you, Fiore."

"What? Wh-what are you trying to say?"

"Make a choice."

Despite the look in her eye, he knew he had to continue. "What is it that you really want? Is it to be a mage? Or would you prefer to be a normal human? You're going to have to choose which of these paths to fully embrace."

Her eyes widened at that. "What is the meaning of this, Caules? Are you trying to tell me that I should stop being a mage?"

"That is something that you have to decide for yourself."

"Th-then the answer should be obvious! I choose…"

"Please," Caules interjected. "Just take a moment and think. No matter the justification behind it, the truth is that you hate death, right?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Do you remember our dog?"

Her face grew ashen at his mention of their pet. He then watched as her eyes began to grow heavy and wet. "I… I do. I will always remember it, and what happened. How could I ever allow myself to forget such a thing?"

"I know, but why is that?"

"Because… I just can't! Should I allow myself to forget that tragedy, I would be allowing its spirit to just fade away. How could I call myself human if I let such a thing just happen?"

It was her use of that particular word that told him her true answer. Chiron had been right.

Caules sighed, and then smiled sadly. "You're really not cut out to be a magus, are you, sis?"

She was silent for a moment, the shock on her face at his statement apparent. Then, she too smiled sadly, as tears began to slowly drip down her cheeks. "I guess you're right… Maybe… maybe I just hesitated a bit too much. I guess I'm just too weak."

He shook his head and took her hand. "No. You're not weak, Fiore. You're just human, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that."

For a while, neither said anything, and he just held her hand as she quietly wept.

After a long moment, she wiped her eyes, gave him a smile, and then rolled herself away from the table.

As he watched Fiore wheel herself away, Caules heard the sound of clapping. He turned to behold the bulky and tall Caster of Blue, grinning at him with his strange, checkerboard teeth. "Way to take control there, bro! Top notch stuff!"

His smile then widened, and his eyes slightly narrowed. "Real protagonist move, bro!"

Caules' eyes widened at that last, familiar statement, and his verbiage. Everything clicked. "You!"

He was not quite sure what happened next. He vaguely remembered jumping up from his chair towards the tall man, and, the next thing he knew, his right hand was throbbing.

The Caster servant gave him a bemused expression at his attempt. "Really? Did ya forget that I'm a Servant, bro? What did you expect would happen if ya tried to punch me like that?"

"You blackmailed me, you bastard!"

"Oh please. I gave ya info in return! It wss mutual exchange, not blackmail!"

"Mutual exchange?! I couldn't use any of the information that you gave me, or else my family would have gotten suspicious, and killed me on the spot!"

"Well, it's not my fault that ya have such a messed up little family, bro! Besides, if I hadn't been blackmailing you, then ya probably wouldn't be where you are now!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Yer about to become the new head of Yggdmillennia, ain't ya? Yer really becoming a first rate protagonist! Also, if it hadn't been for me telling ya about Jack, then yer pretty little sister would have probably ended up a pretty little splatter on a wall."

Despite his anger at the verbose servant, Caules, reluctantly, had to admit that the man had a point. However, one question was still bugging him. "Why did you do this? Why did you blackmail me?"

"Couple'a reasons. First, it was because you were the only one out of this whole, creepy lot that owned a computer. Second, it was because I was just feeling really bored. But, third… well, that was because I found ya to be both kind of boring, and interesting."

"What?"

"I researched yer creepy family after I was summoned. I saw you… the spare, the one that everyone else in yer family would not even blink at killing… the one that no one would even notice or care if ya disappeared off the face of the earth, and, thus, in other words, yore the perfect basis for a protagonist, or, if ya'd rather, a hero; a useless little nobody who has been slowly turning into a big and useful somebody. All ya just needed was a little push in the right direction."

Caules glared at him, and then turned around walked away. As he did, the Caster called out one last time. "Sure, it's hard being a hero, Caules Yggdmillennia, even for a thief and a faker like me. But, in the end, what would you prefer to be, bro? Someone who never once mattered, or someone who was able ta make a difference? All it really takes is just once choice, bro."

A moment later, a great explosion could be heard outside.

* * *

Bazett was feeling both very nervous, and very excited, at the moment. Who could blame her, when she was being looked over by Cu Chulainn's teacher, Scathach?

After the meeting in the throne room had finished, the armored woman had dismissed her three servants, grabbed both Bazett and Cu by the arms, and dragged them out of the room.

A moment later, the three of them were standing outside in the Castle's courtyard, where Rider had hesitantly introduced her to his teacher, while in the distance, the moon and stars still hung in the sky like silent sentinels.

The Witch of the Shadowlands stroked her chin as she looked over Bazett once again. "hmm… not bad, Setanta. It looks like she has some potential."

Bazett could not help but beam at the praise. "Though, she still seems pretty fucking green."

…. That was all right. She was not going to silently cry into her pillow later.

Cu awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "You don't have to be so mean about, teacher. She's already been in battle."

"Alright. I'll give her that. You've been teaching her runes?"

"Yep, and I can tell you that my Master here is a very quick study."

The Witch nodded, and then looked right at her. "Well, girl? Are you mute? Speak up."

"I-I can take care of myself, ma'am!"

That got the raise of a maroon eyebrow. "Good to know."

Then, to Bazett's surprise, The Teacher of Setanta suddenly leaned in and… sniffed her. "There's a familiar scent on you, girlie…. What family are you from again?"

"F-Fraga."

"Fraga, eh? Tell me, does your family still have _that_? Course, your not a full Fraga, are you?"

"Y-yes, we still have _it_. A-also, no, I also have Icecolle blood in my veins."

"Never head of them."

After that, there was an awkward silence. Then, the Warrior-Witch shrugged. "All-in-all Setantna, I must admit, you've found a good one here. Nice work."

Suddenly, they all heard a massive explosion…

* * *

Achilles and Brynhildr stood side by side, awkwardly looking at the trio across from them.

The three women each bore a rather familiar resemblance to Brynhildr. The one on the left had short black hair cut pageboy style covered by a white hood. The one in the middle had shoulder-length pink hair. Finally, the one on the right had long blonde hair that reached the small of her back. The trio was garbed in identical sets of white robes and finely crafted suits of leather and metal armor.

All three of them had red eyes with white slit pupils, and all six of these orbs were currently staring at the Rider and Lancer of Red, but mostly at Achilles.

"…Ortlinde, Hildr, Thrud… It's good to see you three again."

"Yes… it is good to see you again, sister."

This was starting to go well beyond the horizon of awkward.

Make no mistake; Brynhildr loved her sister Valkyries dearly. It was just that, unlike her, they had not really been created with any, well… personality. It was more accurate to call them automatons than anything else.

So yes… this felt awkward.

The youngest, Ortlinde, then looked at her, and did something that seemed to be a smile. "You look… happy."

"That makes us glad."

"You should always be happy, sister."

… That was very kind of them. "Thank you, sisters."

The three then all looked directly at Achilles. "So, who's this?"

Before anything more could be said, there was a loud explosion.

* * *

Kairi walked up to Mordred, who was glaring out the window. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Like I said earlier, I'm fine."

He looked out through the glass, and saw that she was glaring at Saber of blue and his hooded master, who were standing out in the darkened fields.

Kairi idly tapped his fingers against the pane for a moment, and then sighed. This was probably going to be a bad idea… Oh, what the hell. "You want to fight him? Then go ahead."

That drew a surprised look from her.

"Are you fucking with me? You used a command seal to keep me from doing just that!"

"No, because if you remember, my order was just for you to calm down at the moment."

At his next words, Mordred's head shot up. "I never said you couldn't still attack him."

She did not grin, but her eyes narrowed, and she shifted into her armor with a small flash.

"Whatever emotions you two have brewing in your systems in regards to each other, you need to let them out, so, as your Master, I'm asking that you do so. If you don't then they're just going to brew and boil, until they explode, and trust me? That never ends well, for anyone. As reluctant as I am to let you do this, you still need to. Better to get it over with now, rather than later."

As she stomped off, he called out again. "Just don't turn this into Camlann again!"

She flipped him off in reply.

* * *

It was odd, and yet comforting, to Arthur Pendragon how, even after 1500 years, in a new time and place, far from his native land, the moon and stars were still the same.

"Are you alright, Saber?"

Arthur studied his descendant's face. When he had been summoned, he had been greatly surprised upon seeing her, as well as the fact that they were related by blood. He wondered which of his issue she may have been descended from.

The shape of her eyes pointed to Borre, perhaps…

He looked at his master as he considered her question, and then shrugged. "Meeting Mordred, face to face again… what parent could ever be prepared for seeing the face of their own child, a child that they killed with their own hands?"

Gray said nothing, so Arthur continued. "She hates me, and rightfully so. To say that I was a terrible parent would be a massive understatement. Her very phantasm is proof of that. What could I ever say to her, that could penetrate such undying hatred?"

The hooded girl shrugged, but before she could reply, a shout echoed across the field.

 **"ARTHUR!"**

At the moment that he heard the exclamation, his red coat glowed, and the sword, Dyrnwyn was already in hand, while Gray leapt out of the way, as the king's wayward child, now fully armored, save for her helmet, smashed into him.

* * *

As the other residents of the Millennia Castle clambered out to the field, they were greeted with a terrible sight.

The red lighting of Clarent smashed against the white fire of Dyrnwyn with a roar like a dragon. To any of the viewers who were familiar with the Arthurian legends, especially Gray, it seemed like a White Dragon fighting a Red Dragon.

The irony was in no way lost on the hooded girl as she watched her two ancestors clash.

* * *

"Damn it," El-Melloi II yelled as the two knights exchanged blows. "We don't have time for this."

Before he could call out to the two combatants, Iskander blocked him with a meaty arm. "Not yet, Waver. Let these two fight out their aggressions and frustrations towards one another."

Kairi Sisigou nodded. "They need this, the both of them. If they don't, then they will in no way be able to cooperate."

El-Melloi II raised an eyebrow at the strange logic.

"Besides," his king added, as he pointed at the bout. "If you look closely, neither is really trying to kill the other. This is not really a battle… this is a simple venting of frustration."

* * *

"Where's your real sword, father?" Mordred snarled, as he slashed from the side with Clarent, only to be blocked by the White Knight's blade. "Where is Excalibur? Did it judge you to no longer be worthy of carrying it? Why do you not bare the edge of the Sword of Promised Victory against me?"

"I have no desire to use that sword, especially against you, Mordred."

Mordred's replay was a mighty scream of "Red Thunder!"

Seemingly without thinking, the king of Camelot let loose a burst of white fire to counteract against the blast of Red Thunder.

"Why?" Mordred screamed, and he slashed away without pause, though each was just as quickly dodged and parried by his father. "Why did you not give me the throne, father? Did you truly hate me that much, you hypocritical bastard? Was it because I was illegitimate? That's rich, coming from you. I was still your first born!"

As they each struggled against the other in the blade lock, Arthur Pendragon looked his son right in the eye.

"No, it was never that. I never once hated you, Mordred, for anything."

Those words made Mordred freeze in surprise, so much so that he failed to block his father's fist from smashing into his son's armored chest, sending the Red Knight flying back from the White Knight.

As they both stood there, panting, everyone waited with baited breath. Then to the surprise of all, the Once and Future king of Britain stabbed his white sword into the ground, and then… simply stood there and let his arms hang at his side, in a strange, inviting gesture.

….

….

This bastard. THIS FUCKING BASTARD!

How dare he? How DARE HE?!

* * *

Her eyes widening in rage and surprise at the Saber of Blue's strange action, all watched as Mordred screamed and shot towards her father, Clarent blazing with angry power and lightening.

Then, the White King of the Red Dragon said two words… two simple words that made the knight of Treachery arrest herself and freeze mid-swing, The Royal Sword's sharp and tarnished edge barely an inch from his royal throat.

"I'm sorry."

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence, as father and child remained almost frozen in place.

"I am sorry, Mordred. I know that nothing I can say could ever truly heal the rage in your heart that you feel towards me. All I can say, though, is I am sorry, sorry for what I did to you, for how I turned you aside. Never once did I ever hate you for what you did, for I was just as much to blame for Camelot's fall as you and your mother. I guess in the end, I simply forgot how to be human. All I can hope now is that someday, somehow, you can forgive me, for being such a kingly fool. If the only way to do that is for you to kill me once again, then, once we save the world, I promise that you can have your vengeance. I will welcome it, in fact."

They both stared at the other, while all the observers held their breath in fear and anticipation of what would happen next.

Clarent's edge began to shake, and then… Mordred lowered the blade to her side, and then dropped it to the ground with a thud.

To everyone's surprise, tears then began to drip down her face, while her fists shook. "You fucking bastard. What… what gives you the right to say such a stupid thing like that?"

The king looked honestly surprised at that statement.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you, you bastard. But now… now I can't kill you… I never could… you fucking bastard! I don't want to kill you…"

As tears continued to stream down her face, she collapsed to the ground, while the king just stood there, unsure of what to do.

Then, alsomt hesitantly, he knelt and reached out his hand to lay it on her shoulder. She half-heartedly tried to shake him off, but it still remained there.

Then tears began to fall down the face of the king, though his face showed no other signs of sadness. "I'm so sorry, Mordred. I'm so sorry, my son."

For a while, all that could be heard was the shared tears of a parent and his child dripping onto the ground like rain drops.

* * *

Once the battle in the fields had ended, everyone had begun to trickle back into the castle. Notably, Mordred was no longer glaring at her father's back.

Once they were inside, Fiore gave her last orders as the head of Yggdmillennia. "We move out as soon as possible. We have to stop Prelati."

Her brother nodded. "We can make some calls, and rent several jets to Fuyuki city."

Caules then went to get the phone….

* * *

 _Bucharest Henri Coandă International Airport_

For Vasile Albu, it was a slow day at the airport. Of course, at this time of the year, tourist season was extremely slow, plus, at this time of the morning, there was little to no foot traffic.

Then, the phone at his desk began to ring. After a single ring he answered it.

"Bună ziua, Aeroportul Internațional Henri Coandă din București. Cu ce vă pot ajuta?"

The voice, a slighty accented male's, repiled in a dignified and concise manner that befitted it's owner. It was alos a voice and sentence that he had never expected to hear in his life time, knowing it only from stories passed down in his family.

"Care este dinamica matematică a unui asteroid?" Instinctivly, Vasile knew the correct answer. "Un cer, profesor." "Înțelegi ce să faci, domnule Albu?" "Fac." "Bun. Îți faci mândria de sânge." "Mulțumesc. Sunt dincolo de onoare, profesor."

As the phone on the other end clicked shut, Vasile stood up, straightened his clothing, and walked out of his booth, pocketing a screwdriver and lighter as he left. Eyes straight, and posture firm and upright, he strode through the nearly empty airport, to maintenance. He descended the stairs towards the piping, and found the room that he was searching for.

With the steel screwdriver, he managed to create a leak.

That was all he needed. As the room became filled with a low hissing noise, he withdrew his lighter, and flicked it open. Then, there was nothing but fire…

* * *

 _Hanging Gardens of Babylon_

The Professor shut his cell-phone with a smile. That ought to slow down their pursuers considerably.

"Is it done, Moriarty?" His "goddess" asked.

"Of course, your worship."

* * *

The Masters and Servants looked upon the images on the television in shock, the flaming wreckage of the Bucharest Henri Coandă International Airportclear for all to see.

El-Melloi II swore again. "They knew we would follow them. Fuck."

"How the hell are we supposed to catch up to them now?"

Blackmore then cleared his throat, though the look on his face made it seem as if he wished he did not have to. "I might have another way. First, we need to get to the coast…"

* * *

 _A beach near Trifas_

With some slight trepidation, Blackmore withdrew from his coat pocket what appeared to be a well-worn boatswain's whistle. After a moment of looking at the thing, he put the instrument up to his lips, and blew. From it came three sharp and loud notes; low, high, and then low again.

One moment…

Two moments…

Three.

Mist could then be seen gathering off the coast, until it was right at the shore itself. Then… the sound of creaking wood and groaning metal upon the waves filled the air.

Suddenly, from the mist came a wet dinghy, being rowed ashore by dark and indistinct figures.

The boat docked upon the shore, and a man stepped off it onto the wet sand, as an explorer would a new land that he planned to conquer.

The man was tall, and his skin was the color of pale ash with a slight green tinge, like a freshly drowned corpse, while his hair and elegantly trimmed beard was as pale as bone. His armor was the color of a nighttime sea, with bony spikes and ridges, and, grotesquely, what seemed to be actual lichen and coral growing out of the armor. At his side were belted a serrated rapier with an ornate basket hilt, and a boarding axe, while strapped across his chest were several pistols of various designs and time-periods. Over and under all of this was a bright red and ragged coat with white and gold highlights and threading, along with a dazzling display of medals and buckles and straps.

His most arresting features, however, were the black eye patch over one eye, the scars across the right side of his face, where the eye patch was, and his visible one, which was as red as a setting sun that had been drenched in a horizon and sea of blood. Another eye-catching thing about him was that an albatross with black feathers and red eyes was perched upon one of the larger spines of his armor.

Resting upon his head was a pristine Spanish admiral's tricorn hat, with a large blue feather tucked into its brim. The article stood out like white upon a black chalkboard

This figure, though darkly dashing, still cut quite the picture of a ravenous pirate and bloodthirsty rogue, eager and ready to spill blood at the slightest provocation.

He looked upon the assembled group of Masters, Servants, and Homunculi, his leather and steel not making a single noise as he moved, before he settled upon Blackmore, and smiled, revealing sharp, pearly white incisors.

"Little Dan Blackmore. This is a surprise. You have gotten old. How long has it been, for you to get so wrinkly and… unappetizing? I was beginning to think that you were never going to call upon me, that you had forgotten poor, little old Fina. It has been a constant agony in my heart, wondering how long you would hold those naughty little favors over my head, like the doom of Damocles itself."

Blackmore's eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened on his cane. "It has been over thirty years, Svelton. Thirty years since you took my leg, that night off the coast of Afghanistan. Trust me, I could not forget you, as much as I might wish otherwise."

The Dead Apostle Ancestor smirked, his fangs glinting in the night. "Must you still be so angry with me about that? As I recall, I did apologize most profusely for that little tantrum of mine, didn't I? But, could you really blame me? You did take my eye, after all, and, because of that biting blade that you used, it still will not heal. You scarred my immaculate face, and thus left me with a visage that only a mother could ever hope to love."

At that last statement, everyone, even Scathach, then looked upon Sir Blackmore with a good bit of healthy respect and disbelief.

Then, the vampire's "visage-that-only-a-mother-could-love" turned quite serious. "So, what do you want?"

"We need your help. We have to get to Fuyuki City."

"Japan eh? I have not visited that island nation in decades. May one ask why you and your coterie of… _sumptuous_ -looking friends felt the need to call upon me and my ships to get you there?"

"Nothing less than the end of the world."

The bloodsucker stroked his chin, and then waved a hand. "Hmm… Sorry, but I am not interested."

"Excuse me?"

"I may owe you a few favors, Blackmore, after what you did for me, but, it is still my choice whether or not to carry them out. I am still a creature of comfort, and so far, you have not told me what I could gain from helping to transport you and your little group to the land of the Rising Sun."

"I would have thought that your continued existence would be of great value to you, Svelton."

"Maybe, but only if I am interested enough to care, and, right now, face to face with you, standing on this damp and dank Romanian shore, I must say that my interest has already waned considerably. So I shall now take… my..."

He then looked towards Caster of Black and Scathach, and he paused in his dismissal as his eye widened and danced with recognition. The vampire then walked past Blackmore, almost shoving him aside, and stepped right up to the artist and the witch, as they happened to be standing side by side. He then proceeded to kiss each of them on the hand, and then square on the lips, to the shock of everyone else present. "Maestro Da Vinci! I never thought to see you again in this lifetime, _mi amore_! And Lady Scathach, why you look as ravishing as ever before, just as you did when we last met. What are you two doing here with little Blackmore?"

The genius of Vinci chuckled. "It's a long story, old friend."

The Witch of the Shadowlands nodded. "Indeed it is, you crusty bloodsucker."

The pirate laughed, while everyone else looked at the trio with disbelief. "Oh, you do make me blush, you really do. Well, if you two are involved in whatever is going on, then I now see no reason to refuse little Blackmore's request. You all are welcome aboard my fleet. I shall help you in your endeavor to save the World. Come, come, there is not a moment to waste!"

As he said this, he snapped his fingers, and a plethora of more boats floated from the mist. "These will help transport you and whatever you may need to my flag ship." He then turned and linked his arms between Vinci and Scathach's. "As for you two, why, you must come with me to my personal quarters. We have got to get _reacquainted_ with one another _._ It has been far too long as it is. _"_

The trio than stepped onto his dinghy, and it floated away, while, overhead, Caster of Black's mechanical bird, and Fina-Blood Svelton's albatross flew about, their squawks and trills filling the air.

As everyone else watched them go, Roche, oddly enough, was the first to break the dumbfounded silence. "Well, let's not just stand here! Let's get going!"

An hour later of loading everything they needed on to the boats, including homunculi soldiers, a few golems, and various pieces of Caster's equipment, they all started to drift away in near uniform away from the shore, and through the mist.

Almost a moment later, they were through, and were greeted with the sight of Fina-Blood Svelton's ship, and it was quite the strange sight.

It was a massive thing, and yet it seemed a bizarre and seamless fusion of ships from all sorts of time periods, including a Spanish galleon, a Greek trireme, a Portuguese carrack, a US aircraft carrier, a yacht, somehow… and many others.

Across the side of the ship was the word _'Danse Macabre.'_

As they neared the side, several hooks and winches were lowered to hook onto the smaller boats.

Upon being fully raised to one of the middle levels of the ship, members of the crew, a strange collection of ephemeral figures, gruesome Dead, fanged Dead Apostles, and even a few humans, though they were more than likely Magi. They were all clothed in a motley collection of different sea-faring uniforms; some like stereotypical pirates, other in Navy uniforms from around the globe and time periods.

One vampire, dressed as a lieutenant in the English Navy of the Edwardian era, gestured to the group. "Welcome aboard. I am Hornblower, one of the first mates of the Fleet. Allow me to show you all to your cabins. The Admiral has given you all leave to explore the ship at your leisure, but he asks that you not disturb him while he is entertaining his two personal guests…"

* * *

The cabin given to El-Melloi II, Gray, Flat, Rider, Saber, and Berserker was a very spacious thing, and rich in decoration, if somewhat antiquated. It was furnighed with three beads, a massive closet, and two large chests.

Flat was then the first to break the silence, as he sat down on the bed. "So… how awesome is all of this? We're on a super awesome ghost pirate ship!"

Gray and El-Melloi II looked at the student in exasperation, while Rider just laughed, Berserker groaned, and Saber shook his head.

"You stupid idiot," the Lord said. "You do realize that we're on a ship captained by one of the Dead Apostle Ancestors, right? He's one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet!"

"So?"

The Lord than and looked at his two students as he spoke again. "Listen… for what it's worth, I'm sorry that you two got dragged into all of this."

They both smiled at their teacher faintly. "You're not to blame for what's been happening, Lord El-Melloi II," Gray said. "You've always done your best to help us."

"Yep!" Flat said. "In fact, if I'm being honest? This is all I've ever wanted, teacher. Going with you on an adventure, and helping you, repaying you for all the kindness that you've shown me over the years."

The Lord felt taken aback by the earnestness in his bumbling student's voice. "Flat…"

The boy then smiled widely. "Yeah, so, can I go exploring, Mr. Big Ben London Super Star?!"

…. And the moment just passed.

Gray just shook her head as her teacher began to scold Flat again for using that idiotic nickname.

Then, Rider stood up, and headed towards their cabin door. El-Melloi II paused in his smacking of flat over the head. "Where are you going, your Majesty?"

The King of Macedonia grinned his wide grin. "Like the boy just said, we are on a ghost ship. I want to explore, and talk with the other members of our little Alliance. Get some rest while you can, Masters. From what the Witch told all of us, you may need it…"

* * *

 _Surgery of the Danse Macabre_

Lying next to his sister on this rickety surgeons table that was covered in what he hoped was not bloodstains, dressed only in a shift, on a creepy ghost ship… Caules was starting to wonder if he should be having second thoughts.

Chiron loomed over them, along with the ship's surgeon, a creepy, ghoulish figure with grey skin, a leather apron, and a small assortment of old cutting tools and instruments hanging from his belt, like the bone saw that Caules was currently doing his best not to look at out of the corner of his eye.

According to that first mate, Hornblower, this creep was very skilled in healing magecraft and spiritual surgery.

Fiore merely had a small smile on her lips as she turned her head towards him. 'Are you having second thoughts, Caules.

The ship creaked. Caules gulped, and attempted a chuckle. "Nope. No second thoughts. Why would I? Just because I'm an inferior mage, and this might have a chance of killing me? Since we're on a ghost ship, that just means that if I die, I already know where I'm going."

The surgeon tittered, and it sent shivers down Caules spine. "Such a snarky little boy. You would be lucky if that happened to you in this fleet. Don't worry though, I'll be right here, ready to stich you two back up if anything breaks… well, that or cut something off. I do enjoy the latter, all things considered."

The thing kept chuckling, even as Chiron leveled a look at the undead being. Then, the centaur sage looked back down at the siblings.

Fiore's face grew serious. "Please, just pull yourself together, little brother. The moment that his ritual has reached its conclusion, you will stand as the new Leader of Yggdmillennia."

Chiron then spoke up. "In my experience, once this begins, it would be best for us to go slow, and transplant the pieces of the crest little by little."

Caules gulped again, steeled his nerves, and then tightly squeezed his sister's hand, which she returned. "I guess there's no other choice then."

Fiore nodded, then looked to the surgeon and the Centaur Sage. "Let us begin."

"Very well."

As Chiron said this, the ship's surgeon held out a hand, and began to murmur under his breath. From his fingertips came dark green glowing tendrils that rested upon the sibling's limbs, like the tubes used to transfuse blood directly from a donor to a patient. They felt cold to the touch.

Then, Fiore's magic circuits lit up. The green glow slowly worked its way through the surgeon's tendrils, inching their way across to Caules' flesh.

The moment the glowing lines touched his skin… it felt like a thousand hot iron needles were being shoved into his spine, and eyes, and bones!

Before he knew it, he was screaming, as his now enflamed circuits began to spark, like faulty wiring.

His sister's eyes shot open at both his screams and how tightly he was gripping her hand. "Caules! You're speeding up the process too quickly! You have to calm down!"

The surgeon chuckled again, as he looked at Chiron. "And you didn't want to tie them down. Well, at least one of them is screaming, so it's not a total waste of my time."

Caules tied to grit his teeth against the pain, and failed. "I… know… but… I can't… stop it!"

"His body and circuits are reacting to the foreign sensation of the crest implantation!" Chiron said.

The surgeon stopped chuckling, his expression now deadly serious. "If the transfer isn't slowed, than his circuits will over-saturate and rupture. I can try to dam the flow a bit, but the rest will still be up to him."

He reached with his free hand into his apron, pulled out a long leather strap, and shoved it into Caules' mouth. "Here! Bite down on this and breathe through your nose, unless you want to loose your tongue boy."

As he spoke, the tendrils coming from his fingers then began to glow darker. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much!

It was now feeling like his limbs were being slowly torn out of his sockets.

Out side the room, they could all here the worried bellowing of Asterios.

"Caules," Fiore exclaimed. "Just listen to me. Try and just focus on my voice! Caules!"

For a moment, everything went white….

 _… The wind blew a gentle breeze that ruffled through the field of grass and flowers_ _with a kindly whoosh, while the sun radiated warmth and light._

 _He knew this place. He had lived here his entire life._

 _It was so peaceful._

 _At the sound of wheels upon the grass, he turned around, and was greeted with another familiar sight._

 _It was a little girl, in a wheel chair. Clutched in her tiny hand was a leash, and at the end of the long line of fabric was a dog._

 _With a wagging tail, the canine barked in recognition, while the girl just stared at him, blankly._

 _Slowly, he approached the pair._

 _He knew them._

 _Once he was near, he knelt down in front of her. For a long moment, they did nothing but stare into the other's eyes, both the same light blue._

 _Then, she gave him a smile, so full of gentle pity and kindness, and held out her open hand. The dog leash lay within it, waiting to be taken up._

 _He looked down at it, then back up at her, and nodded with a smile of his own._

"Thank you," _he said._ "I promise that I'll take good care of it."

 _As he reached out to take it, everything faded…_

As Caules' eyes slowly opened and readjusted to the dim light, he found the surgeon, Fiore, and Chiron looking over him, while, further back, Asterios' large head peeked in through the door with a worried expression.

"Looks like he's still alive," the surgeon grumbled. "Pity. We could have used a new cabin boy."

Everyone else ignored him. "Caules," his sister said. "Can you hear me?"

He tried to answer, but everything just felt so sore. With a groan, he slowly tried to sit up on the table, as the ship kept rocking. "Please," Chiron warned, as he steadied the boy. "Try not to strain yourself. You body is still recovering from the ritual."

"I'm… fine," Caules gritted out. "It's nothing."

As he sucked in several happy breathes of ship air, the surgeon handed him a small bottle. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain."

No. No drugs. For what was coming, Caules reckoned that he would need his mind as clear as possible.

Chiron gently smiled down at the siblings. "You did fantastic, Caules Forvedge Yggdmillannia, as did you, Lady Fiore."

The pain was now starting to subside. As it did, Caules gave both his sister and the centaur a wry grin.

* * *

A few hallways down, in the cabin given to him and his Master, Alexandre Dumas chuckled as he put away his pen and notebook, and stood up from the writing desk. Despite not being there, he had still seen the whole thing clearly.

Yep, the boy's journey to protagonist was almost complete. Who knew what would happen now, with these revisions to the plot…

* * *

In the cabin shown to them by the creepy sailors, Mordred sat down on the bed, lost in thought.

After looking at her for a moment, Kairi stepped out into the hallway. He then flipped open his phone and dialed a number that he had not called in many a year.

It rang once, then twice…. Click

"Hey dad, it's me."

There was silence, but the necromancer knew his father was listening.

"Can we talk?"

* * *

An hour later, the other Servants had been alerted by various crewmembers of the ship that the Rider of Blue wanted to speak with them in the dining quarters.

The other Servants, sans Archer of Black (Who was still with Fiore and Caules) and Caster of Black (he and the vampire and the witch were still vigorously "occupied") all gathered around the table in the dining hall where Rider of Blue sat, along side several aged wooden barrels. Even Berserker of Black managed to fit into the dining space

"Come," he said, gesturing about. "Sit, and drink."

They all took a seat, and it was noted that Saber of Red was sitting next to her father.

Mordred was then the first to speak. "What do you want, Rider of Blue?"

Iskander replied by smashing open one of the barrels, and poured each of the other heroes a full goblet. Then, once he was done, he spread out his arms, as if he could envelop all the other heroes seated at the table by his presence alone. "It is quite simple. We are, each of us, mighty heroes, drawn to this strange War from across time and space and beyond the grave by both the Grail and the Counter Force. We are to fight side by side to save this world from those who would wish it harm. As such, to not know each other's wish, here and now, would be a greatly wasted opportunity. If it helps, then I shall start; My Wish is True Incarnation! To stand upon the shores of this world with real flesh, and finish what I started in my first lifetime, to conquer it with my own two hands! Now that I have told you my heart's desire, sit, drink, and tell me yours!"

Gilgamesh actually chuckled at the Rider's audacity as he took a seat. "Your forthrightness and dedication to your beliefs truly amuses me, King of Conquerors." He then took a sip from his goblet and made a face. "Though, your choice in drink does not amuse me in the slightest."

"Oh, but the quarter master of this ship told me that this was one of the captain's finest vintages."

"If that is true, then it would seem our host's taste is not as refined as I had thought. As such, I shall now rectify that."

Over the table, a golden portal deposited a large shining barrel and several gilded cups. The Golden King gestured to it. "Try this, and be amazed."

Now curious, the King of Conquerors filled a cup, and drank it. A moment later, his face lit up in joy. "Remarkable. By Olympus! Never did I imagine that such a taste could exist."

As the other Servants filled their own cups, the room was soon filled with similar exclamations of enjoyment, even from Sherlock Holmes.

Iskander chuckled. "So, then, since you were the next to speak, what's your wish, Goldie? What would you want the Grail for?"

The king of Heroes raised an elegant eyebrow. "Why would I want to wish for something that is already mine by right? This world and all its treasures belong to me. Thus, so does the grail. As such, I have no wish."

"Neither do I," Rider of Black added. "I just want a good fight, nothing more."

Iskander nodded. "What about you, child of my faction's Saber?"

Mordred smirked as she crossed her steel-clad arms. "I want to challenge the sword of Selection, so that I can prove that I can surpass my father as the King of Camelot!"

Gilgamesh snorted at this. "Ridiculous; a rebellious child seeking to surpass the parent that she tried to overthrow? What a farce?"

The Red Knight turned towards him, smashing her hand into the wooden table as she did. "Screw you and your gold-plated asshole. Also, call me a girl again, and you'll regret it!"

The first Hero simply smirked as a single gold portal flared into existence behind him, a shining spear slowly edging out, it's tip gleaming with bloodlust, while everyone else tensed and edged backwards.

"I think it's an admirable wish."

Arthur Pendragon's voice cut through the tension like a razor-sharp sword, and everyone looked at the seated king in surprise.

The White Knight continued, though his face was not smiling. "With a bit of polish, Mordred would make a most admirable king. Perhaps even greater than me."

Iskander laughed again. "Simply magnificent, King of Knights, if not surprising. But what of your wish?"

"I don't have one."

That caught Mordred's attention to be sure. "Wh-what?"

"I have no regrets with how my life ended. I never once did. Should I wish for things to be different? No, for to do so would be an insult to all those who came before and after me."

As he said this, Mordred noted how his face remained impassive. He was not smiling.

As the hours passed, the Servants began to simply talk, with the rest revealing their wishes. It did not fail to escape Iskanders notice that many of the Servants had no wish for the grail.

Very interesting.

Of course, what was more interesting was the he had the chance to speak with Achilles, his childhood idol! His boyhood dreams were coming true! What a great Holy Grail war this was turning out to be, end of the world notwithstanding!

As the hours continued to pass, they were soon joined by the other Masters for a hearty soup that was ladled out by the gruesome members of the Vampire's crew, as well as Fina-Blood Svelton, Scathach, and Leonardo DaVinci, all three of whom were clad in little more than sheer, somewhat loose, robes.

Finally, the conversations began to lull, and each Master and Servant slowly began to go their separate ways, leaving Iskander to toy with his empty glass.

The wishes of heroes and men… how wonderful.

With another shake of his head, the man who had conquered the Known World simply laughed.

A moment later, an explosion shook the entire ship, and aloud ship's bell could be heard.

They were under attack!

The King of Conquerors joined everyone else from all parts of the ship as they all scrambled for the top deck, and there, the crew and passengers were greeted with a sight straight from the depths of Hades itself.

* * *

 **A/N I'll be honest, I am not very sure about this chapter, and I'm sorry it took so long to put this one out. I am trying.**

 **Still, read, review, and enjoy.**

 **As far as The Scene with Mordred and Arthur, as I was writing it, it came to me that, perhaps most of what Mordred really needed from her father was an Apology. In the Red knight's memories in Fate/ Apocrypha, the king is never show to once actually apologize. Granted, Mordred had led a bloody rebellion, but still… Their relationship is not going to suddenly be all happy child and parent after this, and it probably never will be, but, right now? Things are slowly, _slowly_ starting to mend, so they can at least fight side by side with the other. **


	8. Chapter 8

Blood, Obsidian, Ocean Chapter 8

 _The Hanging Gardens of Babylon_

It was a truly a most magnificent and wondrous fortress, these Hanging Gardens of Babylon, this great and impossible Noble Phantasm of the Ancient Empress of Assyria. Hardly anything in the world could compare to it, and nothing could even hope to approach its splendor in this day in age, or, really, in any day and age for that matter.

These thoughts had admittedly crossed the mind of the goddess more than once, as she sat upon the throne at the center of the Noble Phantasm, with Semiramis' memories and powers allowing her to manipulate it as easily as the subsumed Assassin.

Through the projected images that she had brought up in front of her, the goddess looked over upon the bustling city of Fuyuki, the city where all this had begun, so many centuries ago. It was so full of life and light. So busy; so unaware of what was to happen.

The city actually reminded the goddess of her mortal hometown of Orleans, in a strange way. It was almost a shame, what would have to happen to it, and to the people that were going about their lives.

She then rose from the throne and descended the steps. As she did, she looked up at her general and friend. "Is everyone ready to begin, Gilles?"

"We are. We only await your command, my goddess. Just give us the word, and we will all be off."

"Good, for it is now given. Go forth, and bring my love to them all."

The goddess then turned to the rippling image of the towering former Emperor who stood invisible in the center of the city, unseen by its residents, reluctantly awaiting her command. Such a proud and unbending soul, this last Emperor of Persia. "Darius, are you ready?"

"… Very well, _'goddess.'_ "

At her gesture, her first general waved his flag through the air; the fourteen knights drew their swords and strode through the portals along side her general and other captains, while Darius's golden, hieroglyphic tattoos glowed through his armor and purple robes, and his image then vanished.

As her forces started to assemble, and the screams began in the city, she then turned to the broken soul of Rust and Iron who had remained behind.

He looked back at her, his eyes emotionless and unwavering in their dead intensity.

"You know what to do," she said simply.

With a nod, he vanished from her sight.

Meanwhile, she then looked to the sea. "It would appear the that we have some guests. Moriarty, if you would be so kind?"

The Napoleon of crime bowed deeply. "Of course, my lady. I shall go and greet them immediately…."

At his departure, she looked towards Prelati and Caster. "Shall we, my friends?"

"Do lets!" "Si, Si!"

* * *

 _Mount Enzou Temple_

It was a quiet night at the temple, and Issei Ryouudo was diligently going about his homework from the previous school day. Across from him, Souichirou-sensei, his history teacher who resided at the temple, was busy quietly grading papers and class assignments from the day as well.

The results of the school president elections would be revealed tomorrow, and, despite himself, Issei was feeling more than a bit apprehensive. He had done his best, and had spearheaded a good, decent, honest, and earnest campaign. Tomorrow, everything was going to change, for better or for ill.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light; a topsy-turvy sensation in his stomach, and Issei then found that he was laying flat on the ground at… at the base of the mountain, along with everyone else. As he got up, a series of questions began to flit through his conscious mind.

Why were he and everyone else all at the base of the mountain steps?

Why was there a floating fortress over the mountain?

Why was there a giant coming out of nowhere?

Everyone then turned to the city at the sound of explosions and screams. It was Fuyuki City, and it was in flames. Who was attacking Fuyuki?!

Suddenly, one of the senior monks, Nagayama, suddenly screamed out in pain and agony. A sword had erupted through his chest, and he was then sliced in two.

Then, another monk, his own father, was decapitated! As the blood splattered to the ground, the perpetuator was then revealed, standing in the center of the disoriented and scared monks, while Issei screamed in shock and despair and grief at his parent's sudden death.

The murderer was a man; he was somewhat tall, or at least a good bit over average height, and lithely muscled. He was garbed in what appeared to be a strange amalgamation of a long red cloak, long black rags, and bandages that covered his arms and face, save for his eyes, and long white hair. One eye was a dark red, and the other was a strange amber color. Around his neck was a long and thick necklace of prayer beads. Held in his hands were two katanas, both dripping red with blood.

For some reason, Souichirou-sensei then rushed forward towards the killer, his fists clenched and rose in a fighting stance. Issei had never seen a person move so fast before.

He kicked, and punched. Even for one as inexperienced in fighting as Issei, even he could tell that each blow could kill it was to land upon a human being.

But it was no use. All the bandaged man did was shift his body slightly around each attempted blow, and then… he moved. Souichirou-sensei had been fast, but this murderer?

There was a slight blur, and then Souichirou-sensei fell to the ground… in several bloody pieces. Then, the killer looked right at the rest of the monks, and directly at Issei.

What was most frightening to the junior monk was how sad the man's mismatched eyes were, and how they seemed to stare through him and the others with a frightening and strange intensity, and… was that recognition?

The killer then spoke, in an almost robotic tone, muffled by the bandages. "I will remember you all, and I will remember your final moments. Know that I take no pleasure from any of this. Goodbye, Issei Ryuudou."

Then, his right eye glowed. **"Bend."**

* * *

 _Top Deck of the_ Danse Macabre

Fuyuki City was being attacked. It was burning.

Even from this distance, all aboard the _Danse Macabre,_ they could feel the heat of the flames, and they could all hear the screams of its denizens.

Caules was the first to speak. His eyes were wide with horror. "All those people! What can we do?!"

Sherlock Holmes simply pointed at the mountain that lay beyond the city. "The corrupted Grail is in that mountain! If we can reach it, and destroy the corrupted servant that started all of this, destroy and purify the Grail, than all this madness can end!"

Da Vinci was the next to speak up. "Yes, but right now, it's encased in a force field which is being powered by four other locations around the city! I can impart onto all of you the locations! But first, we need to get to land! From there, it should be a relatively simple task of finding the locations and severing the connections!"

Caster of blue then let loose a deprecating chuckle. "Yeah, sounds really fucking easy, Da Vinci, except for all the servants that Prelati no doubt has at its side, as well as that big fucking bruiser standing right there!"

The giant was absolutely massive. It seemed made from magma and suns and glaciers and hoarfrost. It bore in its right hand a massive, burning sword, and in its left hand, it held an equally massive and freezing axe. As if feeling their gazes upon it, the giant roared.

Gilgamesh smirked. "Leave that brute to me. I have something that can help with that!"

Then, almost as one, he and Karna's heads shot up, surprise writ on their faces, as they looked over towards the eastern outskirts of the city.

"Do you feel that, Son of the Sun god?"

"I do, King of Heroes. They are here."

In the next moment, the first hero unleashed a plethora of golden portals. "These will get all of you to the shore! The rest will be up to you! As for the Son of the Sun god and I, we have somewhere else to be!"

There was not much more to say, for the two demi-gods were the first to enter through their portal.

Arthur Pendragon looked towards his master, and then nodded. He then spoke. **"Kar Morgan Mwynfawr!"**

Into his hand materialized a sounding horn, engraved with symbols of a horse. He put his lips to it and sounded out a clear and deep note.

Next to him on the spacious deck materialized a mighty and well-crafted chariot, carved from gold, various gems, and other precious metals. Yoked to it were two horses. One was as white of the driven snow with soft brown eyes, and the other as black as a pitch-dark night with wide red orbs. Both were richly armored and caparisoned.

He and his hooded master stepped onto the vehicle as he grabbed the reins. He then turned towards Mordred. "If we survive, then you and I have a lot to make up for, my son. So please, don't die."

All Mordred could do was grimly nod at that.

Meanwhile, Cu Chulainn, Iskander, and Achilles brought forth their chariots as well, with Scathach and Brynhildr behind Achilles on his, Flat and Berserker of Blue with Iskander and El-Melloi II, and Bazett with Cu Chulainn.

Iskander then bellowed out with a lion's roar, with his sword pointed towards the coast. "Right! We shall enter first! We will be the vanguard of this assault! The rest of you who can, you shall follow behind us! We heroes are the last hope this world has! So, let us stride forward and live up to our shared title of hero!"

Caules nodded. "I'll go with you!"

Fiore's head shot up at that. "Caules, no! You can't! You're still recovering from the crest transference!"

He shook his head. "I have to. For my entire life, I've always been the useless spare, the one that no one would care about if he dropped dead… I don't want to be useless anymore. I don't want to have to hide on the sidelines anymore. For once in my useless life, I want to prove my worth."

He then looked towards the grinning Caster of Blue. "Besides, someone once told me that I should start to act more like a protagonist. Even for a useless spare like myself, how I can pass up such a challenge?"

As the Author of Monte Cristo laughed uproariously at that, Fiore sighed. "I don't remember you ever being this stubborn before, little brother."

"I guess we've all changed from this war, Fiore."

She then gave a rueful smile. "So it would seem. Good luck then. Please, just come back alive."

He gave her a smile of his own. "I'll do my best, big sister. Come on, Asterios, let's go!"

The bull of Minos nodded, and then scooped the boy onto his shoulder, before materializing his axes into his massive hands.

As they all began to funnel into the portals with a rattle of hooves and metal and footsteps, there was a great shrieking in the sky. Svelton, the crew, the Casters of Blue and Black, Roche, Fiore, Gordes, and everyone else all looked up to see a terrifying sight; a massive swarm of winged creatures, each a nightmarish amalgamation of demons, dragons, and eldritch horrors that hurt to look at. Mounted upon each was an armored and twisted figure.

At the head of the swarm, mounted upon the largest creature, was what could only be described as a gentlemanly figure, garbed in fine clothes.

Even from this distance, those on the ship could hear his orders. "Slaughter them all, in the name of the goddess! Send them to their graves in the depths of the ocean!"

Fina was quick to respond to the sight. "All hands on deck! Grab your weapons, ready the guns, and prepare to repel all boarders!" Svelton bellowed. "You heroes go and save the world! The rest of you, get down below into the hold!"

The crew of living and dead and Servants hurried to obey, while the remaining masters rushed down into the hold.

As the horde of draconic and demonic creatures swarmed towards the ship, Svelton drew his serrated sword and a pistol, and then grinned a wild grin as he stabbed his blade into the deck and began to chant, while dark lines spread out from the blade…

 _Under Moon and under star,_

 _I have sailed near and far._

 _Through endless strife and bloody war,_

 _I have ridden these seas like a lusty whore._

 _But now, I shall end this moonlit charade_

 _And call upon thee, my Grand **Parade**!_

In a burst of maniacal laughter, the ship glowed, and began to… multiply.

The airborne creatures and their leader were soon met with the sight of a grand fleet that seemed to swallow up the entirety of the sea and horizon itself.

Then, the guns and scorpions and ballistae of this mighty fleet all aimed their sharp tips and points and barrels upwards…

 **"FIRE!"**

* * *

 _The Hanging Gardens of Babylon_

The goddess felt the Tower approach onto the land. She smiled. "It is here. They have brought the tower to us."

She turned towards Gilles and the others still with her. "Go forth, my friends. Go forth and kill them all."

She then directed her gaze towards the giant of ice and fire standing patiently outside. "Surtr. Attack."

* * *

Outside, the giant roared, hefted his weapons, and began to stride forward. Before he could take more than one single step though, something _punched_ him, hard, in the face, and made the Jotunn King of Muspelheim actually stagger back in pain and surprise.

Emerging from a massive golden portal, its arm still extended from the punch it had landed on Surtr, was an equally massive construct of stone, marble, metal, and gold, wrought and carved in the shape of man with an Olympian build, dressed in equally idealized armor of ancient design. In it's right hand, the construct held a grey sword the size of a skyscraper, made from stone and steel, which was now swinging straight towards the angry giant, which was blocked by both his weapons, and the resounding boom seemed to shake the very planet.

With earth-shaking steps, the two titanic beings fought and staggered away from the mountain….

* * *

 _The Hanging Gardens of Babylon_

The goddess was silent for a long moment as she and everyone else watched the scene. "Hmmm… I will admit that this was a bit unexpected."

Even Prelati could do nothing but stare, before shrugging with a chuckle…

* * *

 _Hold of the_ Danse Macabre

The crew and passengers on the ghost ship all briefly paused to watch in shock and awe as the two titanic beings fought one another.

Before Berserker carried him through the portal, Caules looked at the sight, and then at the Archer of Blue as he and the Archer of Red vanished through their portal.

All that the new head of the Yggdmillenia could think of, at that very moment, was that he was very, very, very, _very_ glad that the Black faction did not have to have ended up fighting the King of Heroes!

* * *

When the heroes emerged from the portals into the city, they were each given a much closer look at the horror around them.

Sludge-covered horrors attacked any citizen in sight, alongside strange soldiers wreathed in gold and purple armor and green fire. People were screaming and being butchered, murdered, eaten, and killed.

Iskander recognized the latter almost immediately, just as he recognized their leader in the distance, mounted upon a gigantic black and armored elephant wreathed in green fire.

"ISKANDER!"

It seemed that Darius had particularly good eyesight.

The massive elephant rumbled towards Iskander and his allies, trampling anything that got in its rider's way. "At long last, our bitter rivalry can be settled, King of Conquerors! At long last, you shall die here, and by my hand!"

In response, Iskander could only grin. "Indeed, Darius III! My heart beats with joy at the thought of battling you, despite how warped you have become!"

"WARPED?! You shall pay tenfold for such an insult! The goddess has allowed me to fight you once again. For such a reward, I would have pledged my soul to every single demon in Hell! Besides, you are alone here, King of Conquerors! Those vaunted armies of yours that crushed and stole my Empire are now naught but dust and rotting bones and shit, floating and buried upon and beneath the winds and sands of time, while my armies… MY ARMIES ARE IMMORTAL!"

* * *

As the two ancient rival traded insults, Waver turned to Flat, his Servant, Caules Yggdmillennia and the berserker of Black. "You four go on ahead with Ruler, Gray and our Saber! Just go! This is going to get big!"

The four scrambled to obey, following after the King of Britain and the Great Detective, with the Bull of Minos scooping up Flat and his invisible servant, before bounding off into the city, towards the mountain.

Meanwhile, Luvia, Sakura, Elsa, Kairi, Mordred, Hansa, Assassin and Lancer of Blue, and Blackmore all headed off in separate directions, towards the sources of the other beams that were connected to the mountain.

* * *

Even from the distance, Iskander could see how Darius' eyes and tattoos glowed an unearthly color, though that was not important. What was important to the king of Macedonia was how the Persian Emperor had insulted the very memory of his dear companions, those who had fought and bled and died at Iskander's side throughout his campaigns, on his quest for the endless Ocean that was Okeanos.

Darius then bellowed out three words and the air was filled with power.

 **"Athanaton Ten Thousand!"**

At those three words, the skeletal soldiers and twisted knights and medieval warriors wreathed in gold, purple, black, and green fire all began to swarm towards the King of Conquerors and the other heroes with him.

Besides the elephant emerged 15 twisted French knights, each mounted upon a monstrous creature. One of them bore black wings upon his back, horns, and a third eye, and he carried aloft a terrifying pennon, which glowed with an unholy radiance. Waving it through the air, he shouted, and the air was filled with zealous power.

 ** _"Grand War Order of the Goddess!"_**

Along side Darius' troops came unholy, twisted reflections of medieval soldiers, from infantry to heavily mounted cavalry, to even archers and spearmen and halberdiers, and even cannons.

Iskander looked at the massive force arrayed before him and his allies in silence, and then… he laughed!

He laughed so hard that tears formed in the corner of his red eyes. He laughed as he dismissed his chariot and stepped on the ground. Then, after he thumped his chest once, he spread out his hands and arms wide, while, on his right wrist, a strange bracelet softly glowed.

"That is where you are wrong, for never once am I ever truly alone, Darius III! I stand here with other mighty heroes from the Throne, and, though we are currently outnumbered, I still feel no fear at the sight of your unholy forces and compatriots! Indeed, I spit in your very direction, and at your numbers, for a true Hero, a True King, would never daunted by something as inconsequential as numbers! Nor would he have sold his soul just to kill a rival! But, if you truly insist on insulting them and me…"

His grin then widened, to an almost manic degree, and his voice seemed to arrest the very attention of every living thing in the country. "Than I shall call forth my armies! Though their bodies may have returned to ash, the spirits of my armies still hear my call! These men and women are my legendary heroes – my loyal followers! They are my true friends, and, at my call, they will return to fight once more at my side, through a bond that transcends and breaks the very constraints of time and space. They are my treasure within treasures; they're my right to rule! They make up my mightiest Noble Phantasm! So, behold!"

He shouted, and the world was filled with might and power and something approaching the Authority of the gods, and all who heard him felt their hearts soar with righteous and mighty intent...

* * *

 **"IONIOI HETAIROI!"**

* * *

In a burst of lighting and a crack of thunder, and, oddly enough, the mighty force of a hot desert wind, a massive army materialized besides and behind Iskander and the other heroes, with more materializing around them every second. It was a great collage of ancient cultures from around the world: Grecian and Macedonian Hoplites, Egyptian Spearmen, Athenian Archers, Persian Slingers, and more, all standing shoulder to shoulder. This was a bit odd to Darius, knowing that his rival's armies normally only existed inside a Reality Marble.

In any other sort of Holy Grail War, the only way his endless armies could have been summoned would have been inside the Reality Marble, and would not have been able to come into the World itself under normal circumstances. However, of course, these were not normal circumstances.

But that was not important to Darius III at the moment.

What was important to him was the fact that each and every last one of these summoned soldiers was carrying a weapon that was glowing with radiances beyond those of any weapons forged by man.

Each and every last one of them was holding a Noble Phantasm, curtsey of both the Archer and Caster of Blue.

Despite this, the last King of The Achaemenid Empire of Persia could not help but grin a wide, gold and manic grin, an expression that was more than evenly matched by the Conquering king of Macedonia, as the King of Conquerors mounted himself upon a coal-black steed at the head of his army. This was even better, since now there would be witnesses to their fated battle. The whole World could bear witness to the culmination of their destinies!

Gilles simply gripped tightly his sword and banner, guiding his mount with just his legs and knees.

Almost as one, the three each screamed out a single word, as they each raised their respective weapons towards their opponents.

"CHARGE!"

A moment later, the two mighty armies clashed against the other among the burning ruins of Fuyuki city…

* * *

The moment that Arthur's chariot had started moving forward along with Iskander's massive forces and the other heroes of their desperate little alliance, he heard Gray give out a yelp of fear and surprise.

The birdcage at her side was suddenly yanked away, and soared rapidly away towards the mountain!

With a flick of his reigns, they sped off in the direction that it had been taken.

* * *

The stolen fortress was floating directly over the mountain, with a barrier encasing it, with three great streams flowing into the barrier.

The sight of it only spurred Juubei on, despite the carnage and death all about him, as his portal, for some reason, had deposited him at the outskirts of the city. He slashed through a large throng of horrific creatures and undead as he ran towards the mountain, while, overhead, the fiery giant exchanged blows with the Archer of Blue's equally giant golem phantasm.

The only small consolation from his current situation was that, being in Japan, his stats and skills were given a good boost.

When he arrived at the base of the mountain, he was greeted with a terrible sight; over a dozen bodies, all garbed in the robes of Buddhist monks. The bodies were all viciously contorted.

Standing among the slaughter was a figure that radiated pure darkness and twisted rust, while his two blades dripped blood onto the ground. Floating in front of the murderer was a young man, no more then 16 years of age. His limbs were horribly twisted, and it seemed that he had already screamed his throat hoarse, even as tears of pain and fear ran down his face.

This murderous soul of rust and twisted iron looked upon the stunned Saber of Black with frank disinterest. His right eye briefly flashed, and the young monk's neck snapped, the sound echoing through the air clearly, despite the clamor of battle around. The murderer then inclined his head. "Welcome. Have you come here to be remembered, Saber of Black, Yagyu Juubei?"

* * *

 _Hold of the_ Danse Macabre

Gordes' eyes were glued to the projection in front of him, ignoring the screams and sounds of battle above him and the others. Even from here, he could feel the unnatural power and evil radiating from the figure that his Saber was now confronting.

"What… what is that _thing_?" he whispered to himself.

* * *

On the base of the steps of the ruined temple, among the twisted and decapitated bodies of the monks, as the murdered boy fell to the ground with a wet splat, the swordsman with one eye looked upon the broken man of red and leather and bandages and alloys and rust and Buddhist prayer beads. In one of the killer's hands was an absurdly long sword with a purple handle, and in the other, he held the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo, its edge glinting in the firelight.

Juubei warily readied his red handled sword in both hands. "It seems that you are the second person to wield that familiar blade against me, murderer. However, the previous thief was courteous enough to have told me his name. Will you do the same?"

The nameless villain readied his weapons, pointed the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo at Juubei, and shook his hand. "It will not matter. I discarded my names a long time ago. Besides, you are going die here. Just die with the knowledge that I will remember your death. Though, if it helps, you can think of me as a nameless villain."

Neither seemed to move, and, in the next moment, the air rang out with the clash of their blades.

Unlike the previous thief, this person, this "nameless villain," seemed much more skilled, perhaps of an almost equal level to Juubei. Had he lived in Juubei's time, he would have quickly carved out a grand legend of swordsmanship.

Juubei parried a double slash, spun, ducked, and stabbed forward.

The man leapt back from the blow, his purple-handled sword disappearing, while the Miike was stabbed in the ground, and was then swiftly replaced with a long, strange, and twisted black, crimson, and gold bow, to which the 'nameless villain' knocked several arrows. As he drew them back, he shouted. **"My core is twisted in the void; God Force Sweep and Shoot!"**

Where once there had been two, now there were perhaps thirty, each like a small comet, and all barreling towards the Saber of black.

Despite their quantity, Juubei easily slashed, parried, and hacked his way through them, to clash against the villain, who now only held the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo.

As they parted in another flash of sparks, Juubei heard the sound of something flying through the air behind him and more from instinct than anything else, he leapt back and spun to intercept the incoming missiles, which had somehow shifted and changed direction in the air.

As he spun around and slashed away at the arrows, the villain was behind him, and the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo's fine and sharp blade slipped through, and impaled Juubei through the back and chest in a small geyser of blood and a wet _squelch_.

All this had happened in the span of just a single second.

"I will remember your death," the villain whispered in Juubei's, before roughly sliding Juubei off of his sword with a splat.

As he lay on the ground, Yagyu Juubei reached up with a shaking hand, ripped off his eye patch, and activated his eye…

* * *

On the base of the steps of the ruined temple, among the twisted and decapitated bodies of the monks, as the murdered boy fell to the ground with a wet splat, the swordsman with one eye looked upon the broken man of red and leather and bandages and alloys and rust and Buddhist prayer beads. In one of the killer's hands was an absurdly long sword with a purple handle, and in the other, he held the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo, its edge glinting in the firelight.

Juubei warily readied his red handled sword in both hands. "It seems that you are the second person to wield that familiar blade against me, murderer. However, the previous thief was courteous enough to have told me his name. Will you do the same?"

The nameless villain readied his weapons, pointed the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo at Juubei, and shook his head, though, for some reason, his eyes held a hint of recognition. "It will not matter. I discarded my name a long time ago. Besides, you are going die here. Just die with the knowledge that I will remember your death. Though, if it helps, you can think of me as a nameless villain. Die, as you did before."

Neither seemed to move, and, in the next moment, the air rang out with the clash of their blades.

Unlike the previous thief, this person, this "nameless villain," seemed much more skilled, perhaps of an almost equal level to Juubei. Had he lived in Juubei's time, he would have quickly carved out a grand legend of swordsmanship.

Juubei parried a double slash, spun, ducked, and stabbed forward.

The man leapt back from the blow, his purple-handled sword disappearing, while the Miike was stabbed in the ground, and it was then swiftly replaced with a long, strange, and twisted black, crimson, and gold bow, to which the 'nameless villain' knocked several arrows. As he drew them back, he shouted. **"My core is twisted in the void; God Force Sweep and Shoot!"**

Where once there had been two, now there were perhaps thirty, each like a small comet, and all barreling towards the Saber of black.

Despite their quantity, Juubei easily slashed, parried, and hacked his way through them, to clash against the villain, who now only held the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo.

As they parted in another flash of sparks, Juubei heard the sound of something flying through the air behind him and more from instinct than anything else, he leapt back and spun to intercept the incoming missiles, which had somehow shifted and changed direction in the air.

As Juubei spun and blocked the descending arrows, the Miike Tenta Mituyo's fine blade shot forward…

Yagyu's memories from the last instant came flooding in, and he suddenly dropped, and slashed upwards against the extended sword, making go flying out of the villain's hands.

In the next second, the long sword with the purple handle was already blocking Juubei's next strike.

"I thought that I was supposed to have killed you in that moment."

Juubei's only response to this baffling comment was another slash of his red sword, which was blocked.

Suddenly, the nameless villain _smashed_ a large, mace-like sword into Juubei's side, replacing the sword with the purple handle.

Juubei was sent flying off the steps to crash into the surrounding forest. Then, four swords were swiftly impaled into his back.

His eye glowed…

* * *

As Juubei spun and blocked the descending shafts, the Miike Tenta Mituyo's fine blade shot forward…

Yagyu's memories from the last instant came flooding in, and he suddenly dropped, and slashed upwards against the extended sword, making go flying out of the villain's hands.

In the next second, the long sword with the purple handle was already blocking Juubei's next strike.

"I thought that I had killed you twice already, in this moment."

Juubei's only response to this baffling comment was another slash of his red sword, which was blocked.

The memories came…

But, instead of the large mace sword slamming into his side, as per the memories, the villain simply punched him right in his chest, _hard._

This time, instead of careening into the trees, Juubei was instead launched right into the Miyama district of the city, and straight into a large, elegant, Japanese-style home, startling the frightened residents of the dwelling, who must have been attempting to hide from the chaos outside. The villain was already speeding after him, the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo still eager for blood.

Unlike before, Juubei was already on his feet, ready to fight, and his red handled blade replaced with the one with the blue handle, its blue glow already settling about his form. But, instead, the villain did not attack him. Instead, he just… stood there, having stopped several feet before the Legendary Swordsman.

"I see now," the nameless villain said, as he stabbed the Miike into the ground, and then began to unwind some of the loose bandages from around his arms and face. "I see now that you too were touched by the temporal void."

"What does such a thing matter to you, nameless villain?"

As the bandages came loose, his face and bare arms came into view; pale skin, interlaced with thin sutures and a myriad of patchwork scars. His left arm, oddly enough, was deeply tanned.

"It matters, because now, I don't have to hold back against you any longer, and so that I can kill you with my true power. Now, look upon my true visage, Yagyu Jubei, and know bottomless despair. Now die, alongside them, in despair."

It only took a second.

From nowhere, several blades, arrows, and bullets materialized into the air and shot forward towards the huddled and frightened family, who could do nothing but scream in terror as their death approached.

There was no time, or need, to even think. There was only time to act, almost as if it were an ingrained instinct.

The weapons and projectiles were sliced to pieces by the sword with the blue handle, keeping the huddled humans alive and unharmed, at least physically.

Unbeknownst to all save The Saber of Black and the Nameless Villain, this scene had been repeated, several times, only stopping on this version, where the family and the swordsman all survived.

Finally, Yagyu Juubei stood in front of the human family, sword raised, small cuts and holes in his clothes and armor, and with several thin tears of blood dripping down his face from his right eye, while he breathed heavily. "Run!" he cried to the family, while the villain watched the scene with a raised eyebrow.

As the humans scurried out the door, towards uncertain fates, the villain watched them go, and then rushed forward once again.

Their blades each contributed to a blur that made other blurs appear to be as slow as molasses dripping out of a jar.

"Why did you do that? Why try so many times to save those pathetic little things? They are still going to die anyway." The nameless villain asked amidst the sparks and clangs.

Juubei's only response was a flurry of blows, and then, somehow, a lucky slash that managed to completely sever the villain's right arm, which held the sword with the purple handle.

Instead of panicking, or even screaming in pain the villain slashed with the blade in his tanned left hand. Then, he shouted out a word. _"Taiten!"_

The blood spray seemed to _rewind,_ back into his body, and the arm flew up and reattached itself to the villain's shoulder.

The entire time, he had not even been slowed by the severing attack.

"Why did you save them," he continued, still slashing away, and then suddenly kicking at Juubei's head. "Why, when your wish was to not be a hero anymore, when it is more than likely that they will still be slaughtered outside? Why did you just save that family so many times? WHY DO YOU STILL CARE?!"

Before Juubei could even answer the bizarre question, while dodging the kick to the head, the villain then jumped back to the outdoor yard of the residence.

"I shall show you the true depths of despair then, Yagyu Juubei. I will show unto you the pure endlessness of the void, and the hopelessness that is reality!"

The villain's left eye then glowed, and suddenly, to Juubei's perception and shock, everything began to slow; the flames, the dying people around them, the very air and debris flying, floating, and falling around them, and even his own reflexes, as he tried to rush the villain, while he ripped off his eye patch. Then, the murderer began to chant, and his words filled the air with an aura of pure and utter _wrong_ …

 _I am the reflection of nothingness and creation._

 _Born of nothing, and returned to nothing._

 _I have forged and created countless worlds of empty things and empty blades_

 _Never once truly born, and forever more lost to time._

 _Having seen the end of all, I will know no fear, for I am ever empty and still._

 _So as I despair,_

 **Unlimited Lost World Works**

Reality blinked with a flash and a glow…

* * *

When the glow settled, Juubei looked upon his surroundings, and found them to be much changed, to his shock.

It was a strangle vista that greeted his sight, part blasted wasteland, and part simple grassland. Above, the sky was part red, and part night sky, but it was dotted with massive gears, and chains and… planets. Massive, floating, celestial orbs of different colors and textures.

Stabbed into the ground were countless blades, weapons, and other things, even firearms.

Meanwhile, upon the wind, he could hear the quiet moans of the damned.

Juubei looked up, and saw that, upon a nearby hill, the self-proclaimed nameless villain stood, looking down upon the Saber of black like a dispassionate king about to pass a harsh, yet deserved, sentence upon a heinous criminal who had dared to have broken the laws of his kingdom.

"Behold, the embodiment of my patchwork souls, and the realization of my very beings. This is my crucible, my forge, my world, and my prison. It is in here that the very fabric of Time and creation lies at my fingertips."

* * *

 _Hold of the_ Danse Macabre

Gordes could not believe his eyes.

"A... A Reality Marble!" he choked out.

* * *

 _Unlimited Lost World Works_

Suddenly, despite the passive barrier generated by the sword with the blue handle, thousands of cuts slashed into Saber of Black's face and arms.

As he bit back a scream, he barely managed to block and parry two slashes from the Nameless creator of this inner world. The blades locked and sparked off one another. "As I said, in this Marble, I control the very essence of time. Any wound that you had ever received, whether in this timeline, or in any alternate ones, I can inflict upon you. I control all moments and instances here. Here, I gather the hatred of all those who I have saved and remembered. Here, I will kill you!"

Despite this grand boast, it did not escape the notice of Juubei that thin trails of blood were running down the ears, nose, eyes, and mouth of his opponent.

They parted, as another tear of blood dripped down Juubei's eye, and his wounds vanished, though partially in thanks to Yawarakai-Te's ability.

As their weapons clashed and parted several more times – CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! – The villain spoke again. "Tell me, Yagyu Juubei, what is it that you are truly fighting for? Why do you pretend that your wish is to erase your legend as a hero, when you saved those dead things back there?"

That statement almost cost Juubei his head, though he managed to backtrack and regain his footing quickly enough. "How do you know about that?"

"The goddess knows all. Especially now that she holds the Grail. So tell me, why?"

"Why does such a thing matter to you? Besides, those were innocent people! How could I not try and save them?!"

The villain parried his attack, and then leapt back several meters, but in his mismatched eyes was a hard and… almost angry gaze. "Because… no hero of justice came for me, when I believed in them. Because… no true hero tried to stop me, as I sought, and as I still seek, the end of everything. But, in all honesty, I really don't care what your foolish reasons are, for as I said, you are going to die here. Just call it an adversary's courtesy, as you choke on your self-deception and perish!"

The nameless man then gestured from the sky. " **From the Void comes nothing, and from nothing, the edge of Infinity."** As he spoke, one of the planets in the sky started to shake, before it appeared to implode into what looked like dust.

At this apparent implosion, a great, low droning then seemed to fill the air, as what looked like a million upon a million shining stars and points suddenly filled the air where the planet had once floated, and shot downwards, towards the villain and Juubei. Juubei could see them for what they were, though, and, while he was surprised, he was not deterred.

Instead, the Hero of Japan sped forward, slashing his way with his sword through a swarm of arrows and bullets and blades so thick that it seemed to choke the very air itself as they fell from the sky.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Then, through the swarm of metal, the villain descended, his right eye now glowing, and ignoring the myriad of cuts that he received from his own floating weapons. As he soared downwards, the villain shouted out a single word.

" **BEND**!"

Juubei swiftly leapt up, right before the ground beneath him actually _twisted_ and fractured into sharp debris that flew up after the pair, and then Juubei slashed up with Yawarakai-Te's glowing blade as he ascended through the air, the resulting force field momentarily scattering the mass of metal and destruction about him. As it did, he withdrew his red-handled blade from its sheath at his waist, eager for blood.

This time, when the pair met again, in a clash of metal and sparks, the villain was attacking with a pair of black and white curved swords. When their two pairs of blades kissed the edge of the other, the world seemed to die and be reborn a thousand times a thousand times over, as endless sparks and weapons and things fell upon the bleeding ground like a rain of meteors.

Juubei and the nameless villain seemed to never touch the ground. As more swords and weapons and things swarmed around and towards them, they leapt and jumped and pushed off and clashed and parried and blocked, over and over and over, with time endlessly rewinding and repeating and being turned aside. At times, the villain shifted his weapons from two swords, to a sword staff, to a red spear, to an axe and shield, and so on….

Then, the nameless villain spoke, and time sped up.

" **Chronos Alloy Rose: Double Accel!"**

Before, his movements had been beyond human, and thus of an even match to Juubei's skills. This time, his movements were so rapid that Juubei could only block two, maybe three at most, and a thousand more cuts lacerated his armor, clothes, and skin.

Then, he felt a blow smash straight up into his chest. This final blow and cut sent him flying upwards into and through the atmosphere and endless sky, a small stream of blood leaving his lips as his body contorted and bent around the blow.

Despite the great and massive distance now between them, he could hear the villain's words quite clearly. "This was a good battle, Yagyu Juubei, but ultimately, it was never in your favor. However, I promise to remember your death without fail, even as the goddess ends this world…"

* * *

On the ground, the villain looked up at the ascending Saber of Blacks and raised another projection of the bow of Lu Bu. This time, however, it began to flicker between that shape, and the shape of another, sleeker bow that had once belonged to a famous huntress.

He pulled back the bowstring, with two twisted and glowing arrows knocked to the string of the bow. **"Within the void, and upon the bloody plains, my center is ever twisted and empty. God Force: Final Catastrophe Missile!"**

The nameless villain then loosed the arrows from the string.

From the bow, and from the ground, and from the planets in the endless sky, an unending and wicked mass of arrows, bullets, stones, weapons, blades, fire, and other sharp and deadly things coalesced and swarmed up and shot forth towards the floating and defenseless swordsman.

At the forefront of this mighty and endless barrage of things, a piece of earth with a single, well-crafted sword impaled in it sped up and forward…

* * *

Juubei calmly watched as the swarm of death and destruction flew up towards him. All he felt that he could do was to just close his eyes, and de materialized his weapons, as he waited for the mass of deadly things to eviscerate him to bloody shreds of dust and memory.

It was over.

He had lost.

Then, before the one-eyed swordsman could be reduced to nothing but bloody shreds of dust and memory, time suddenly seemed to slow to a crawl….

* * *

 _Hold of the_ Danse Macabre

Gordes was flabbergasted. "Saber! What are you doing?! You can't die here! You have to get up and fight!"

Outside, a sudden explosion rocked the ship, eliciting a small yelp of fear from Roche, who was huddled nearby, while Fiore, and their contingent of homunculi fighters warily guarded the door. Seeing the terrified boy, Gordes was reminded of his own son…

Grinding his teeth, Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia tunred back to the projection n front of him, and raised his right hand, with his two remaining seals brightly glwoing. "Yagyu Juubei, by the power of my command seals…

* * *

When Juubei opened his eye, it was in an oddly familiar place; the tatami room in his family's ancestral pagoda. It was exactly how he remembered it, down to every last single detail.

The clinking of cups caught his attention.

"I see you have finally arrived, Juubei. Welcome back."

He knew that voice, though it had been years since he had heard it. He turned to see a table that had not been there before, upon which rested a steaming teakettle, and two cups. Seated at it was a man most familiar to the swordsman.

"Father?"

Yagyu Munenori looked just like how the one-eyed swordsman remembered from his life and childhood; tall, and straight-backed despite his age, short-cut gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard that adorned his lip. His father was garbed in simple brown and tan robes, with the only ornamentation being the crest of the Yagyu clan displayed proudly on his robes; a wide-brimmed black hat with ties.

The Yagyu elder was seated in a kneeling position on the floor, pouring two cups of tea.

"You are late, my son. I have been waiting here for you for a good while now."

Juubei knelt in front of the table, facing the elder Yagyu. "Does all of this mean that I am now dead?"

His father gave a light shrug. "That would depend; are you referring to your first life, or to the false life that you were temporarily brought into by a foreign device that grants wishes?"

"The second, I would imagine," the son said, not touching his tea.

"In that case, then you are not dead, at least not yet."

"But I am about to be?"

"If you believe so…"

Juubei stared at his father. "Is this real, father? Are you real, or just a hallucination?"

"Does it really matter, my son?"

"I suppose not."

They then said nothing for a moment. "I can't beat him, father. This villain… he is the very summation of Emptiness. How can anyone hope to win, against such a void, against such endless despair?"

His father, or perhaps, the illusion of his sire, sipped at his own teacup. "A good question, my son…"

Another sip. "I still remember that day, when you finally returned after those twelve long years, and how… different you were, both in bearing, and in purpose. You were once such an earnest young man, eager and forthright in following your ideals and goals to their conclusions. I never inquired as to what happened to you, as it was not my place to ask. However, you may tell me now, if you wish."

Yagyu Juubei stared at the teacup in front of him, while the memories of those twelve years flashed through his mind.

 _…. A city, reduced to ash by a miniature sun… brutal wars fought over misinterpretations of religious texts and money… people starving while their leaders gorged themselves endlessly…intolerance,_ evil _, alive and disgustingly well in the world…_

Juubei sighed, and took another sip; there was still no taste. "I found a passage through time, and I wandered through it for twelve long years. I saw different ages of the world, past, present, and future.

"At first, it was simply wondrous. I even got fight alongside other heroes in the pursuit of good, and saw how far humanity had progressed, and would progress. But, then, I took a closer look, and I began to see things from a much larger perspective… and when I did, I felt despair at the knowledge that nothing we did really mattered. No matter how much any of us fought, no matter how much I fought, for any ideal, it would just vanish in a few generations. Worse, our legends might end up being twisted, and used to bring forth sickening justifications for hateful ideas and rhetoric.

"I saw all of this, all the endless bloodshed and hypocrisy, and I realized that there was no actual point, to any of it or to any of the ideals that I held close to my heart. I realized… that there was just no point to being a hero. I realized that having a legend upon your shoulders was nothing but a curse. Yet, despite my efforts, I still ended up as one, recorded into the throne, and in the legends of our people."

There was no judgment in his father's eyes, or shock at the fact that his son had traveled through time. He was simply listening. "So, if that is the case, my son, then what do you believe in?"

"That nothing we do matters, and that humanity does not deserve heroes."

The Yagyu patriarch looked at his son for a long moment, and then shook his head. "I don't believe you."

"Excuse me?"

"If you truly believed such a disheartening thing, my son, that humanity does not deserve saving, then you would not have saved those people from this nameless villain, and you would not be fighting to help save this world. If you truly believed that nothing mattered, like him, then you would not have forged such a legend that outshines my own, shrouded in mystery as it is. In fact, you would not have even had the strength to wake up each day. But I know you, my son. I know the man that you were and are. Your actions, however, speak differently from these so-called beliefs of yours. Your will is not so easily broken or bent, even under the weight of reality and despair. So, now, I will ask you, once again… what is it that you truly believe in?"

Juubei looked at the mental facsimile of his honored father for a long moment, and then sighed, taking a sip of his tasteless tea. "…I believe that the hope for a better tomorrow could still exist. If I can see such a thing with my own eyes, then… perhaps I can finally die a content soul."

His father nodded. "Very good. Some honesty at last."

His father sipped again. For a moment, that was all they did, just quietly sip their tea, as tasteless as it was. "So, what will you do now, my son? Live and fight, or simply die? You are still alive for the moment, and you have a choice to make."

Juubei sipped at his own beverage once more. This time, however there was a taste. "I think that I will fight for hope, and tomorrow. Anyway, you are long dead, and this tea tastes terrible."

For the first time in his memory, Juubei's father smiled, and raised his cup. "So then go and fight, my son. Fight, win, and remember… sometimes, One is all it takes to make an empty nothing become a full something…"

Before everything vanished, Juubei stood up, and bowed to his father...

* * *

 _Hold of the_ Danse Macabre

"… **I order you to wake up, survive, and win this Battle and War!"**

* * *

As time began to speed up again, and the mass of void, blades, earth, and fire was about to envelope him, a katana once encased in an ordinary iron scabbard fell into his hand, as the piece of earth that it had been stabbed into sped past him.

As his fist instinctively curled around the worn hilt, Juubei opened his eyes, as his master's command suffused his being.

To the nameless villain's surprise, in a mighty burst of red and white lightning, he heard a mighty voice ring out over the rattle of blades and debris.

" **Juuchi Yosamu: Miike Tenta Mitsuyo!"**

Like the wrath of an angry god, the red and white slash permeated throughout the swarm, through the air, the sky, the planets and down onto the original ground of the Marble. Somehow, it cut through everything.

As an endless rain of broken pieces and things fell to the ground, Juubei sheathed his red sword, and once more withdrew Yawarakai-Te. As he did, a radiant blue glow settled about him once again, while white lighting still clamored and clashed against the remnants of the endless swarm.

This time, it was Juubei's voice that echoed clearly throughout the Marble. "Nameless villain who has fallen into sloth and emptiness and despair, I swear upon my father, the name of Yagyu, the hope of tomorrow, and my legend as a hero that I shall defeat you!"

The villain's face actually twisted into a spiteful thing at that last statement. "Your legend as a hero?! The hope of tomorrow?! You actually wish to embrace your role as a legend now, after you claimed to want to throw it all aside?! Very well, then show me what it means to be a true hero, Yagyu Juubei, so you can die like one! Die among the despair and endless suffering that is reality!"

In the villain's right hand, he materialized a black sword, and in his left came the long blade with the purple handle, as he leapt upwards, each weapon crying out for the blood of the Saber of Black.

As the Marble began to crumble, and the floating planets of blades and gears and flames and emptiness began to crash down towards the ground around them, the One-eyed hero and the Nameless villain sped up and down towards one another, weapons at the ready, while the very fabric of time itself seemed to distort around them.

Throughout the dying world, as they edged closer to the other, their mighty shouts echoed from their throats like thunder clamoring from the very heavens themselves.

 **"Tsubame Gaeshi: Thirsty Hound of the Red Plains!"**

" **Yawarakai-Te: Miike Tenta Mitsuyo!"**

When their blades clashed, for that final time, it seemed, in that moment, as if a new universe, indeed, a new facet of the very Kaleidoscope itself, were being born and then destroyed all at once, within the dying inner world of a broken soul.

Then, there was a flash of light…

* * *

As the glow failed, and reality blinked again, the two combatants found themselves back in the real world.

The nameless villain lay flat on his back upon the ground, his left arm severed at the shoulder, and the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo impaled straight through his chest and into the wooden floor, while the sword with the purple handle and the black and bloody blade both faded away into glowing dust.

Juubei lay upon his side against the house wall, a death grip upon his blue-handled sword, and several gruesome slashs down across the left side of his face, across his right shoulder, and across his stomach.

For a while, nothing was said, and there was only pained and heavy breathing. Then, Juubei broke the silence.

"Who were you?" Juubei asked, as he gingerly pulled himself up into a sitting position, trying his best to ignore the pain in his abdomen and shoulder and eye. "Who were you, nameless villain, in your previous life?"

The nameless villain was not even struggling. He just lay there, as his life-fluids leaked out onto the steps, with the Miike impaled through his chest and heart. All he really did was cough up some blood as it dribbled down his chin. "Why do you even care? You just killed me. Who I was in my previous life is inconsequential. Everything is still going to end, even if I won't live to see it happen."

The two just lay there for a moment, in the ruined house, as battle still raged about the rest of the city. Juubei looked at his defeated opponent, while blood continued to leak down his right eye like macabre tears. "What happened to you in your past, to make you so wrong, so empty, that you don't even care that you are dying, and that your wish was for everything in existence to end?"

The villain blinked. "Does such an inconsequential thing really matter that much to you, Saber of Black?"

"Perhaps, or perhaps not."

"Then why even bother to ask such an inconsequential question?"

"I just thought that it should be asked. Or, would you prefer to instead die in silence, nameless villain?"

Juubei was sure that, if he could, the villain would have shrugged. Instead, he just blinked.

Then, to Juubei's slight surprise, the murderer actually answered. "When my parent, my first father, died next to me, passing his impossible dream on to me with a smile, another found and took me in. My second father, he was… unkind to me in many ways; save for how much he actually regretted my suffering. It's odd though how, after everything he did to me, I never once hated him for any of it.

"When I was under his knife, being broken down and remade countless times, I used to cry out, believing in heroes, that justice would prevail, and that he would be stopped, and that I would be saved… though none ever came, so eventually I just stopped crying out. Yet, a part of me still believed in that the next day would be better, that justice would still prevail, even as I sent others to their rest.

"Then, through a strange series of events… I got to catch of glimpse of the end of everything… and it was so beautiful, that that last, hopeful part of me finally died, and I was truly born. There was no more pain an no more suffering. There was just… endless and beautiful nothing. At that moment, though, I realized something... Why was it that we are forced to have to wait for that beauty? Why is it that we are forced to suffer and to die endlessly? I wanted… I just wanted to save everyone, to crush and burn the Root of all meaningless suffering that is existence itself... I just wanted to make it so that all their deaths, all their suffering would mean something... I just wanted to save the world, even if it meant that I would damn myself in the process.."

At that moment, it did not escape Juubei's horrified notice at how this nameless villain had seemed to be speaking in three different voices.

Overhead, battle still raged, two massive titans fought, and in the distance, four gods in mortal flesh and form clashed. Yet, to these two sad souls, who had never once met the other until tonight, the night seemed almost peaceful, as the Swordsman watched the patchwork soul slowly die.

Blood dribbled down the side of the villain's mouth. "Do you think me to be a monster, Saber of Black?"

Juubei stared at the prone villain for a long moment, and then slowly shrugged and shook his head. "At this point... I think it is not my place to judge you, despite all that you have done."

"Fair enough. Now, I do wish to know something from you, Saber of Black…"

"What is it?"

"You never truly answered my question, Saber of Black. Why pretend to wish to not be a hero? Why save those humans?"

The blue glow remained steady as the Swordsman answered the villain. "In my youth, I wanted to be a hero. I trained, brought honor to my clan, honored my father and ancestors, and followed all the correct steps. Then, during those twelve years… I realized that everything I was fighting for would amount to nothing. I saw how the ideals I had hoped to stand for would just be endlessly recycled and discarded by humanity, throughout time and space, over and over again. After I returned, I still honored my ideals but… after a bit longer of trying, I suspect that I deluded myself into thinking that it was all just worthless."

Juubei coughed as he felt his lungs slowly heal. "But, perhaps, it was not really the erasure of my legend that I ever really wanted… I think that all I truly desire is another chance to wander through time, to find something that would prove those dark thoughts wrong, to show me that there are things still worth fighting for, things still worth believing in… Still, I have to admit, fighting you… it felt good to be on the side of right again. So, thank you, nameless villain, for restoring my faith. Because of you, I still have hope.

"As for those humans... they could be saved, and so I saved them. It was simply the right thing to do."

The villain, still unmoving, grunted. "Only a real hero would thank his opponent for such a thing. How utterly strange…. You know, I once fought in a War so much like this one. Three of the other contestants… they defeated me, so that they could try and save me. They wanted to save me, from myself, even after everything that I had done… But, it was too late. Instead, all they could do was to trap me in a dead hell. Even as they did, as I fell through that abyss, I remember how they still kept weeping over me, saying that they would find a way to save me, that they would do the "right" thing."

The villain blinked. "It's almost amusing, really. You partially remind me of the one whose arm and heart I stole… he too wished to cease being a hero, even as he could not stop himself from doing the "right" thing. At least, that was what he told me as he died, trying to kill me."

He coughed again, more blood erupting slowly from his lips. "Soon, it seems that I will be returning to that dead and endless hell. But, for what it's worth, though, I feel… almost happy to have died at the hands of an actual hero. I never really met one in my war; there were only monsters, gods, villains, dragons, and those with imperfect facades. So… thank you... thank you for killing me… _hero_."

As the Legendary Swordsman silently watched, the Broken Soul of Rust and Iron and Time closed his eyes for a final time and faded away in to sparks and dust.

With a grunt, Yagyu Juubei slowly pushed himself up to his feet by the point of his blue sword, his eye still watching as the grey and black sparks and dust faded into the air, while his wounds slowly, _slowly_ healed, and he then began to inch his way out of the now demolished house, and back towards the mountain.

Yagyu Juubei was still a hero, after all and he had still had much work left to do, if he was to help save the world…

* * *

 _Hold of the_ Danse Macabre

Gordes was panting like he had run a marathon, but his eyes remained glued to the projection.

He then looked at his right hand; three smudges all that was left of his command seals.

As the ship rocked, Gordes clenched his fist, and then stood up, and strode towards the door.

It was worth it. He had to believe that it would all be worth it in the end.

* * *

 _Caverns of Mount Enzou_

With the captured birdcage now in hand, the goddess, Prelati, and Caster approached the center of the mountain. Accompanying them were thousands of dull-eyed men, women, and children, each of whom was naked, and carried a knife. Their skins were painted and tattooed and carved with strange, eldritch, and arcane symbols.

With barely a thought, the goddess crushed the birdcage, ignoring the scream that it made, and, a moment later, in her hand was a glowing spiral lance. Then, it began to darken, and became encrusted in red spines and spikes. She then looked towards the floating orb full of black mud, and she snapped the fingers of her free hand, sending out a pulse around the world, awakening the seeds of her love that had spread out through the earth.

She had the Cup, and now she held the Tower. Now, all that was left would be to open the door.

The loss of the nameless villain was tragic, but, she was content with the knowledge that, in times of war, sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

Meanwhile, as she walked towards the corrupted orb, her hair grew longer, horrifying tattoos began to engrave themselves onto her skin, and two massive horns sprouted out of the side of her head, while she began to float off the ground. Her shadow then began to pulsate, and roar in anticipation.

Prelati grinned at the sight. "Shall we begin, oh goddess?"

She did not even look at them to answer. "Indeed. Let us finally give this broken and lonely World true, great, and undying love."

 **It is time, our goddess. Free us. Bring us into this helpless world, and let the world be covered in our love and acceptance.**

 **For only then, can it be truly saved and protected and cared for.**

 **For only then, can we make them all pay.**

 **For only then, can we attain our perfect revenge, against those that denied our love, our power, our existence.**

 **Free us, and we will protect them.**

 **Free us, and all will be well.**

 **Free us, for it is time.**

 **Free us...**

 _...the starting penalty is five..._

* * *

Preview of the next chapter

 _Eastern Outskirts of Fuuyki City_

On the field outside the city, four Servants stood across from one another; three of them were servants of the bow, and one a servant of the lance.

The Son of the Sun God and the King of Heroes looked upon their new opponents.

One was tall and lithe, with skin the color of chocolate, and clad in flowing clothes and a cloak of white, blue, red, and black. In his gloved hand, he held a radiant and shining bow, much like Karna's, and untouched by the embrace of the goddess who had summoned. On the surface, he seemed... perfect, the very image of a good and righteous hero. But, if one looked closer, they would see that his eyes... his red and brown eyes, and even the third one in his forehead, held within them such a dark, wrong, and wrathful hatred directed towards the Son of the Sun God that it made this archer's handsome and chiseled face and features, framed as they were by perfect white hair, seem utterly demonic. Even more so since his lips were stretched into a dark and rapturous smile, one that promised a host of death and destruction and hatred upon Karna, his elder half brother.

Next to this archer stood a strange and androgynous figure, clad in black and white robes, while its bare feet was caressed by the grass. Its hair was so long that it reached well past it's ankles, and was both black, and a brilliant green. Its eyes were a sickly and deep gold. Around its neck and shoulders, a long cord floated upon a nonexistent breeze, as it looked upon the stern, and almost wrathful, face of the King of Uruk with a disturbing nonchalance.

Such power did these four Servants, these four god-like figures, hold and emanate that, even when doing nothing but standing and looking at each other, the very air and ground around them did begin to burst into flame.

Then, they moved...

* * *

 **A/N Read, Review, and enjoy. Sorry for the long wait, or if you think the quality less then perfect.**

 **As an aside, to flesh out the other members of the blue faction, I will be writing a series of short stories about them entitled "Shades of Blue."**

 **Yes, that is the legendary Colossus of Rhodes, as one of Gilgamesh's Noble Phantasm from the Gate of Babylon, wielding Ig-Alima, and it just punched freaking Surtr right in the face after bursting out of the Gate of Babylon. Bow before the awesomeness of that scene, and let your imaginations run wild.**

True Name: Unknown (erased)

Class: Unknown

Master: Joan of Arc

 **STATS**

STR: C

END: C

AGI: A+

MAN: A

LCK: E (EX)

N.P.: ?

 **Class Skills**

Independent Action: A

Avenger: A

Presence Concealment: A+

Magic Resistance: B

Independent Manifestation: A

 **Personal Skills**

Determination of Steel: EX

Magecraft (Time): A.

Patchwork: A+.

Sight and Blessings from beyond the End of the World and Time: A+ (Combination of Clairvoyance and Instinct and Bravery and Battle continuation, and a rank up in luck at certain times):

Item Projection: EX.

?: EX

 **Noble Phantasms**

Unlimited Lost World Works: ?

Chronos Alloy Rose: ?

* * *

True Name: Darius III (Alter)

Class: Rider

Master: Joan of Arc

 **Class Stats**

STR: A

AGI: A+

END: B

MAN: C++

LCK: C

N.P.: A

 **Class Skills**

Riding: A+

Magic Resistance: C

 **Personal Skills**

Golden Rule: B

Disengage: A

Battle Continuation: A

Defender of the Empire: B

 **Noble Phantasm**

Athanaton Ten Thousand: A+

* * *

Name: Surtr

Class: Saber

Master: Joan of Arc

 **STATS**

STR: EX

END: EX

AGI: B+

MAN: A

LCK: B

N.P.: EX

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: A++

Monstrous Strength: B+++

Branch Destruction: A++

Giant Husk: A

 **Personal Skills**

Body of Fire and Ice: A

Beast of Einherjar: A

Freezing Membrane: A

Final Flame: A

Breath of the Ice Wolf: B+

 **Noble Phantasm**

Loptr Laegjarn (Loki Laevateinn): EX

Yxa Av Den Frusna Början: A+++

 **A/N. Again, read, review, and enjoy. Sorry if it is a little shorter than usual, and also sorry if the battle scene is not well written.**


	9. Chapter 9

Blood, Obsidian, Ocean chapter 9

 _Caverns of Mount Enzou_

Prelati looked over the assembled men, women, and children with glee as they all stood in a massive circle around the floating grail. It then looked back at the floating former Joan of Arc, as her form continued to change and a black portal slowy coming into existence before her.

Prelati laughed. Everything was going according to plan. It was just absolutely wonderful!

Really, the fact that all these people had to die for it was only icing on the cake. Of course, that was their only real reason for existing in the first place, after all.

Some millennia ago, over the course of a century, Prelati had kidnapped a total of ten thousand children from all over the globe, secreted them away to a hidden location, and had them all raised to be loyal only to it. They lived, ate, shat, fucked, killed, and died, all for Prelati. Prelati was their reason for being, their God, and the center of their universe. Prelati's word was gospel, and to disobey Prelati would be to disobey God.

Now, the descendants of those ten thousand children were fulfilling their final purpose, for which they had been bred, like prized hounds and other animals of pedigree.

As one, all the blank faced men, women, and children knelt, and raised their daggers to their chests….

* * *

 _Eastern Outskirts of Fuuyki City_

On the field outside the city, four Servants stood across from one another; three of them were servants of the bow, and one a servant of the lance.

The Son of the Sun God and the King of Heroes looked upon their new opponents.

One was tall and lithe, with skin the color of chocolate, and clad in flowing clothes and a cloak of white, blue, red, and black. In his gloved hand, he held a radiant and shining bow, much like Karna's, and it was, oddly enough, untouched by the embrace of the goddess who had summoned him so twisted. On the surface, he seemed... perfect, the very image of a good and righteous hero. But, if one looked closer, they would see that his eyes... his red and brown eyes, and even the third one in his forehead, held within them such a dark, wrong, and wrathful hatred directed towards the Son of the Sun God that it made this archer's handsome and chiseled face and features, framed as they were by perfect white hair, seem nothing less than utterly demonic. Even more so since his lips were stretched into a dark and rapturous smile, one that promised a host of death and destruction and hatred upon Karna, his elder half-brother.

Next to this Archer stood a strange and androgynous figure, clad in black and white robes, while its bare feet was caressed by the grass. Its hair was so long that it reached well past it's ankles, and was both black, and a brilliant green. Its eyes were a sickly and deep gold. Around its neck and shoulders, a long cord floated upon a nonexistent breeze, as it looked upon the stern, and almost wrathful, face of the God-King of Uruk.

Such power did these four Servants, these four god-like figures, hold and emanate that, even when doing nothing but standing and looking at each other, the very air and ground around them did begin to burst into flame.

As their opponents gazed at them, Karna asked of the God-King of Uruk. "May I enquire as to what plan you may have, King of Uruk?"

"Yes... stay out of my way, and I will not make you collateral damage, mongrel."

"Very well."

The androgynous figure was then the first of the corrupted pair to speak. "Why are you so wrathful, Gil? It's me, En…"

"You do not have the privilege to utter his name! You are not he! You are nothing but a disgusting forgery, brought to life by the corrupted Ruler! For your crime of wearing the face of my dead friend, I will make you and your masters suffer for a thousand years!"

As the Golden Archer declared this, the air and space behind and next to the two golden archers was suddenly filled with a thousand upon a thousand golden portals, each ready and waiting to disgorge a barrage of immaculate weaponry. Meanwhile, in his right hand, the first king held a strange weapon; it was no so much a sword as it was a drill with three segments, and it was glowing as red as his eyes. Tightly wound around his left arm was a fine, glowing chain, the end of which disappeared into a small gold portal.

Beside him, Karna simply nocked an arrow to his bowstring, while lightning and fire gathered about his form.

The androgynous figure shook his head with a sigh. "You always did let your temper get the better of you, Gil. I see that has not changed, even after all this time."

Then, Enkidu's companion readied his arrow, and chuckled. "I am going to cut off your head, Karna, and I'm going to enjoy it _deeply_."

Karna set his mismatched eyes upon the corrupted form of Arjuna, his half-brother. He felt no sadness at this battle. It was simply the whims of fate. The odd thing was that, compared to when the Son of Surya had last looked upon his younger brother, during that fateful battle, The Son of Indra seemed… more at peace, and more honest with himself.

Happier, even.

He felt happy for his brother, but still noted how ironic it was that all it had required for Arjuna to attain such peace was to let himself be corrupted and twisted. Without a hint of hesitation, Karna aimed his arrow between Arjuna's eyes, a movement that was quickly mirrored. "I have not yet cut away my armor, brother, nor am I burdened by endless curses. I think that you will find that killing me will not be as easy a task as last time."

Like always, there was no pride, no braggadocio in his voice.

It was simply a fact.

For a moment after, neither side spoke. No one dared to move, blink, breathe, or even sweat.

Then, Gilgamesh _roared_ , a sound of pure, kingly, and divine rage, and sped forward like a Golden bullet, a mass of weaponry shot out, Karna and Arjuna loosed their arrows like two comets, and battle was joined.

Whereas the battle between Saber of Black and the Nameless Villain was titanic, this battle was different. This battle…. This battle was nothing short of _cosmic_.

Every Arrow that Arjuna loosed from the corrupted string of Agni's bow, Karna expertly matched with a shaft of flame. Every Weapon that Gilgamesh sent hurtling towards the twisted version of his one true friend, a weapon of clay and magic knocked them off their course.

Then, the four sped closer to the other.

When they collided, the world shook in power and flame.

This was a batle that had never before been seen, and would never again be witnessed.

* * *

With a few flaps of its wings, Moriarty's draconic mount weaved through the hail of bullets and projectiles being launched from the ships, all the way to the flagship.

As he lightly stepped onto the deck of the ship with his floating coffin behind him and materialized his old sword cane (which was much better than Holmes' in every way!), he idly decapitated a vampire that sought to rush him and blasted a few more away with the guns of his coffin, and a few spells. More of his troops managed to land on this ship, and the others, and a pitched battle was all around him. "Kill everyone on board, and then send this ship to the bottom of the sea, along with the others."

"Well, well. James Moriarty! Is that really you? You look like a corpse!"

The Napoleon of crime turned at the familiar voice, and then beheld with his three eyes a familiar sight, and smirked. "Fina-Blood Svelton. I should have recognized your fine fleet of rotting corpses. But I never thought a creature as selfishly despicable as you would be standing in my way. Also, what on earth happened to your eye, old chum?"

"I cut myself shaving, but now consider myself all the more dashing for it."

The Vampire Admiral then smirked as he blasted apart one of the goddess's soldiers with one of his pistols, though his single red eye shone with an angry light, and the two began to slowly circle each other, ignoring the greater battle around them. The vampire admiral then hefted his boarding axe in his other hand, and the pistol was holstered back across his chest. "I can see that being summoned and twisted by an insane goddess has done little to ease your charmless disposition, James. Nor has it lessened the stink of your ever-present hypocrisy."

"From your tone and words, You seem to be laboring under the idiotic delusion that I worship that mad little woman who summoned me."

"Don't you? You bear a great many signs of her touch, after all, including that most tacky eye in the your forehead."

Another vampire tried to rush him from behind, but the altered Archer blasted him away without even looking. "No my dear Fina. Despite all appearances, I owe her and that cackling little creature who holds her reins no more loyalty that I would owe towards a pair of cockroaches, or a hill of ants. She and Prelati are simply the means to the end, so that I can achieve what I have always wanted and desired; the entire world, resting in the palm of my hand."

Fina scoffed. "You are deluded as ever, my dear James. From what I can see, if that 'mad little woman's' plan reaches fruition, then there won't be a world for you to hold in the palm of your hand."

"Perhaps, but, with the Grail in my deserving hands, all things are possible. Right now, however, I find that I have already grown ever so tired tire of this conversation. En Gard!"

With a small clash of sparks, their blades then collided.

* * *

Arjuna was the first to reach his chosen opponent, slamming agni gandive down upon him like a club, alll the while being wreathed in black flames. His blow was quickly blocked by Karna's arm, which was similarly wrapped in flames and lighting.

A moment later, Arjuna's own flame colored fist impacted abasing Karna's cheek, though he barely felt a thing. As they fought, each's mana burst grew larger and large, until the two towers of flames rose high into the air, and seemed to converge into a single pillar of flames and lightning. Through it all, they exchanged blows, any single one of which could have immolated a mountain. Punches that could shatter diamond were parried and tanked, blasts of flame were met and canceled out by equal blasts, and so on...

As they exchanged punches and blasts, they then managed to get int oa fist lock, the impact of which sent out a sound-wave that flattened several buildings a god 100 kilmeters away, Karna looked upon his brother, and upon his face. "It is strange... though your spirit feels liberated, at the same time it is still burdened down with such weighty rage. Why, Brother?"

For some reason, that made Arjuna's eyes go wide with shock. Not willing to waste such an opportunity, Karna then reared up his head, and smashed it into Arjuna's face with a loud crack, all the while his red eye started to glow. "Oh Brahma, curse me!"

The blow and blast made the son of Indra cry out in pain, and afforded Karan a long enough moment to jump back, and ready his bow.

However, instead of following him, Arjuna just raised up a shaking hand to his bleeding and ravaged face, even as the wounds slowly closed up. The Pandeva prince pressed the hand against the wound, and looked down at the blood. Then, he began to shake... shake in anger, and his form slowly became enveloped by black flames. Then, ever so slowly, he looked up to meet Karna gaze, and his eyes were so full of such a wrath that all of creation would have quailed and recoiled before it.

Such hatred! For a long moment, Karna, despite himself, felt transfixed by that hateful look, even as he slowly nocked another arrow to Vijya, and, in the distance, Gilgamesh fought agaisnt the other Lancer.

Then, Arjuna spoke. "You wish to know why I am so full of hatred, _Karna?"_

As he spoke, he clutched as his face so tightly that his fingers were cutting int the flesh of his face and head, and he began to scratch and tear. "Ever since the moment that I first laid eyes on you at that archery tournament, I've hated you! I hated your dignity, your prowess, and everything about you!"

His shaking and flames intesnified, so much that the ground around him was starting to bubble and melt. "You were not the hero of the story. I WAS! And yet, through it all, you always had to act so fucking superior, so perfect, so fucking heroic and noble! You were the villain, and yet my father allowed YOU to carry his spear, not me! WHY!? Even as all of heaven laid curse after curse upon your shoulders, even as I spat in your face, and killed you, you never once cursed your fate! Why!? Why did you never once cry out at the injustices that you suffered!? Why did you give me that damned smile as you died!? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE THE ONE WHO WAS SO GODS-DAMNED PERFECT!? WHY YOU COULDN'T YOU HATE ME AS I HATED YOU!?"

In response, all karna could do was just close his eyes at that question.

Though his bow remained tightly drawn, Karna then shook his head, and his eyes remained closed. "To curse one's fate in the face of destiny is nothing short of a futile gesture, my brother. All that happened, it was simply what was meant to be. Besides, despite everything that happened between us, you are still my brother. Never once could I ever hate you, Arjuna, even if I wanted to. I could only ever pity that such a perfect and noble soul could be so burdened by such hatreds."

He opened his eyes. "But that does not mean I will not do my best to stop you, here and now, and free you of your burdens." He then aimed his bow upwards.

 **Vijya: Agnito Mantra**

He released the two arrows from Vijya's string, and they arced up into the air, each multiplying into 80,000 flaming missiles, each hotter then the core of the earth itself. In a great wave, they all shot down towards the shaking Arjuna, like a shower of small meteors.

Each and every last arrow _melted_ three feet from him.

Slowly, Arjuna raised up his eyes to face the son of Surya, and the corona of black flames expanded outwards. "Pity me? PITY ME!? Very well then, oh _Hero of Charity_ , then you can die, choking on your fucking pity!"

His hand then rose from his face, and aimed up high towards the burning heavens. As energy began to gather in his palm, all Karna could do, short of fire more arrows, and tense and ready himself.

 _ **"Holy Ground Expansion, Space Fixation, Divine Punishment Enforcement Period Establishment... All is Clear. By the wrath of Shiva and the Goddess, your life ends here..."**_

Arjuna rose into the air, as the orb of power conitnued to expand and burn in his palm. He leveled one last look upon the Hero of Charity, his elder half-brother. "NOW! BURN AWAY AND DIE, KARNA!"

 _ **"Pashupata!"**_

With a mighty and hateful scream, he threw the orb down upon the head of his brother.

As the bolt of divine energy hurtled down towards him, Karna drew his dagger from the sheath at his belt...

* * *

Gilgamesh was beyond furious.

This thing that dared to wear the face of his friend, it spoke like him, fought like him, and even sounded like his one true friend.

But it was not him.

"Honestly, Gil, I just don't understand why you are so furious with me. It really is me, Enkidu. Are you not at all glad to see me standing before you? The goddes saw fit to reunite us once more. Does that not fill your heart with joy?" the thing asked as it sent a fresh wave of spears towards him.

"Joy!?" Gilgamesh replied with incredulity, as he intercepted each spear with a wave of shining shields, as well as sending back several thousand volleys of spears, swords, axes, and arrows as a rebuttal. "Why would one ever feel joy when being forced to gaze upon a fake, twisted, and disgusting mockery of one that they hold dear? Nay, fake puppet, seeing you before me... your existence fills me with nothing but rage! Enkidu, the real Enkidu, would never have let himself be corrupted and twisted by a mad thing playing at being a goddess. Nor would he let her bring complete and utter destruction to the world which he loved and adored more than anything! Yet, the fact that you are fighting for such a creature, without even a hint of internal rebellion, only proves to me that you. Are. Not. Him!"

To his growing wrath, the fake Enkidu actually laughed. "Truly, you have ever been so quick to anger Gil. I remember liking that the least about you. Well that, and your overindulgence in wine and women. But, why would you want to fight against the goddess? She only wishes to give love to the world, unlike the selfish divines of our time. In the face of such overwhelming love and adoration for all before her, well, I'm afraid that one simply has no choice but to want to follow her. So why not stop kidding yourself, and join her? You can finally have what you always desired above all; a garden full of humans, not mongrels. All that can be yours... if you but join us."

No choice?

NO CHOICE!?

"Enough of this despicable farce!" Gilgamesh declared, as he rose into the air, and held up Ea high. "You offer rings as hollow as your claims to my friend's identity, false thing This word no longer has need of the gods! As much as I might currently despise it for its weakness, none have my permission to destroy it! Not you, nor your 'goddess,' or those abominations from beyond the stars which whisper in her ear! For that, the only sentence that you and your mad bitch of a 'goddess' deserve is complete and utter annihilation!"

In his hand, Ea's drill-like components began to rotate, a low-key whine filling the air. "Disappear from my sight, false copy, and my your madness and the madness of your 'goddess' vanish in the face of utter and complete Truth!"

He rose the sword that predated all swords high into the air, as it began to rotate even faster.

 _ **« I shall offer this one strike as the ceremony of separation!"**_  
 _ **"I speak of the beginning. Heaven and earth are divided and nothingness celebrates Creation. My Sword of Rupture rends the world apart."**_

Over his head, and great and swirling vortex of red and black energy began to whirl into existence.

 _ **"The vortex that turns the stars, this heavenly hell signifies the end of the eve of genesis. Subside with death!"**_

On the ground, even as he kept hurtling weapons of clay and stone and earth towards Gil, Enkidu's smile widened on its face. "Always so foolhardy, old friend, and yet... **_That... is also good."_**

He then spread out his hands and arms, as the ground below began to glow a sickly green color, and the earth began to rumble and groan and shake and cry.

 _ **"The evocation is the breath of the planet. I will walk together with the humans and the goddess."**_

 _ **"Therefore ―**_

Almost as one, the two oldest heroes each let out a cry that seemed to echo throughout the entirety of the planet.

 _ **ENUMA ELISH!**_

The beam of twisted gold met the vortex of crimson and black, and so did Truth meet the chains that could bind the gods, and the world quailed and feared and shook, and seemed to die and be reborn in that moment.

* * *

Hansa sped through the streets, destroying any monster that crossed his path. The location that Caster of Black had given him was firmly engrained in his mind.

Without stopping he leapt and kicked the head off of an abomination, before hitting the ground in a roll and then getting back to his feet and kept running.

Eventually, he found the location.

Fuyuki Church.

Hansa had visited this church only once in his life, when he had been young. The church had thought to have the resident priest, Risei adopt Hansa for a time. He had seemed like a kindly gentleman, though there had been something about his son which Hansa had found to be slightly... off putting. In the end, it had not worked out, and Hansa had been adopted by his mentor, Deimo Cervantes.

As he entered, he was greeted with a sight that seemed straight from the bowls of hell itself.

All the pews were filled with corpses, all of which seemed to be freshly murdered, while their blood was smeared all across the walls, some of which spelled out blandishments against he Lord. The entire scene was, in a word, blasphemous.

At the altar, there was what looked to be large, twisted version of a crucifix, feeding energy to the mountain. Nailed to it in a twisted facsimile of the Savior on the cross was the dead body of Risei Kotomine. From all appearacnes his death had not been swift, or even remotely merciful.

Before he could move any further, he then noted that he was not alone, as the church's other resident emerged from the shadows.

"It has been a long time, Hansa Cervantes," he said in a deep voice. "You have grown since last we met."

Hansa shifted into a defensive form as he studied the former priest warily, as the man emerged from the shadows of the desecrated church. Aside from the black veins, white-and-brown hair, and the third eye in the center of his forehead, Kirei Kotomine looked much the same, though, over the course of time, he had thickened with muscle, as well as grown taller.

"Have you come for a confession, Hansa," Kirei said, a kindly smile on his distorted face, as blood dripped down his hands. "Or have you come to pay homage to the goddess, and to the world that she will create?"

Outside, two stars seemed to be born, and a roar shook the very heavens itself.

* * *

Through the streets, the battle raged on. The few civilians that were still alive hid as best they could. It was madness, as undead and twisted things fought against ancient warriors and calvary and generals and heroes.

Scathach was starting to feel a tiny bit bored. Without even looking, she impaled three twisted things stright through the chest with Gae-Bolg. Was all of thi really the best that these twisted things could do? Well, at least her Servants, student, and his master were having fun.

The sound of hoofbeats caught her attention, and she raised her two spears to block the downward slash of the servant with horns, three eyes, and black wings, mounted on a draconic abomination. Huh, he seemed decently strong. As he cireld his mount back for another go, she caught his eye, and he actually saluted her with his blade, which proceeded to burst into flame. "You think you can give me a bit of entertainment, twisted knight?" she asked to him, as she readied her spears.

"In the name of the goddess Jeanne, all who dare to stand in the way of her shall die," the winged knight declared, a zealous expression upon his face.

As his mount made a most gruesome noise the sounded like the unholy spawn of a dragon's screech and a horse's neigh, he surged forward, and she did as well...

* * *

This battle was glorious, mused Iskander, as he rode Bucephalus into a throng of twisted knights and Immortals, cutting down anything that got in his way with lighting and the Sword of the Kuporites.

But, at the same time, it felt... wrong, hollow even.

He regarded Darius III as one of his greatest adversary, who had dared to defy him, time and time again, even as his own governors betrayed and stabbed the Persian king in the back. Iskander had admired his indomitable spirit, his burning desire to not back down, even in the face of Iskander's own unstoppable ambition and might.

A part of him did, indeed, feel gladdened to be fighting his own foe again. But, at the same time... he did not.

He want to fight his own enemy on equal terms, to the fullness of both their abilities and might and armies, in a battle that could be sung of for a millennia to come. This... this was not the true Darius, last and proud Emperor of Persia.

No, this... creature, it was a mockery, a puppet of darkness and evil and madness. From what he had seen of him, at this point, Iskander did not so much want to defeat Darius rather then just put him out of his misery!

Still, it was making for one hell of a fight! Thus, he could not help the grin the shone on his face as he and Bucephalus plunged deeper into the throng, toward the Persiona king and his elephant mount. In his heart, Isaknder knew that Darius felt the same, twisted as he might be.

As he rode, in the distance, he saw serval mighty explosions, including two that seemed more like the births of new stars.

Overhead, the giant of flame and ice traded more blows with the metal Colossus...

* * *

Surtr was a being forged to end the world. It was engraved into his very being. Thus, as such, the King of Muspelheim , destined to burn the world to ash during Ragnarok, so that it may be reborn, was a creature that was, in the simplest of terms, always angry. Of course, this also meant that was very little that could actually enrage the beast, as the very act would be redundant.

Yet, despite these odds, The fire giant was finding itself to be absolutly enraged by its opponent, the Colossus of Rhodes. For some unfathomable reason, Surtr could not seem to defeat it.

Each clash of their weapons was like the sound of two mountains colliding with each other, and sent shockwaves that seemed to reach across the entire globe, and both fighters were not unscathed, with Surtr bleeding flames and frozen water, and the Colossus missing chunks from its figure and visage. And yet, it was still standing and still fighting!

Aside form bieng made of fire and wrath, Surtr's very purpose was to win. He was destined to kill both the gods and the wrold at Ragnarok after all, and, was this not what that was, right now? Were these not the final days, the world's last dying gasps before it was destroyed?

So then why? Why would this puny thing of metal and stone and gems not fall?

The answer to that burning question... is remarkably simple.

Surtr, Progenitor of the fire giants, and king of Muspelheim, was indeed very good at killing gods, just as was his sword, **Loptr Laegjarn** , created by the very planet itself.

However, divinity and godhood was not what had forged the Colossus. No, this Wonder of the World, now lost forever to time, was something forged by the hands of men! It represented one of the pinnacles of creation that man could achieve, with little more than grit, wit, and determination. In essences, it was one of the representations of man, an race that always strove to make the impossible... possible.

And mankind, as history has revealed, time and time again, is a hell of a lot more harder to kill than deities.

In an impossible more, it caught the blade of **Loptr Laegjarn** , despite the sword being the equivalent heat of over four million degrees Celsius... and it did not melt, only slightly cut, as did Surtr's axe when it embedded into the Phantasm's side.

Surtr gaped at this impossibility for a full second, and that was a full second too long, as the Colossus charged forward towards the Giant of Ragnarök, and impaled the blade known as Ig-Alima straight through his blazing chest, and then wrapped itself around the giant in a tackling bear hug that sent both of them down and sinking into the ocean.

With a final roar of disbelief, Surtr died, even as the Colossus finally melted to ash and slag metal under the crushing depths...

* * *

Through the great cloud of ash and dust and debris and enflamed air, a massive object was barreling straight down towards Enkidu.

Too late did Enkidu notice that, throughout the entirety of the two Enuma Elish's clashing, there had been a small portal hovering about Gil's shoulder, and too late did he notice that, even as Gil had released Ea, Gil had reached reaching into it, and then pulling on it, _hard_.

From the portal at his shoulder, Gilgamesh yanked a long length of his glowing chain. As teh smoke cleared, it was to reveal that the other end was wrapped around a massive, rune-encrusted boulder made of stone, gems, and precious metals. The chain was also wrapped around several sharp weapons, creating a deadly, if somewhat crude, flail.

The boulder, the Boulder of Sisyphus, to be precise proceeded to smash into the fake Enkidu with all the force of a comet with an earth-shattering rumble and boom.

Despite his somewhat lithe form, Gilgamesh somehow managed to easily lift the thing back up, and then proceeded to swing the chain and boulder above his head like a giant's makeshift flail.

Through the new cloud of debris and dust, there came a voice. "You actually surprise me, Gil. Well done."

In the center of the crater, Enkidu rose, it's false flesh knitting and repairing itself with a sickly golden glow that matched its eyes. As it spoke, Enkidu waved an rapidly shifting arm, and an endless wave of earthy lances shot up from the ground to intercept the makeshift flail as it wound back for a second smash.

They were all battered aside like bowling pins, and it continued to barrel towards the seemingly hapless Enkidu. In response, all the Chain of heaven did... was raise it's hands and arms, as if to catch it.

And catch it, Enkidu did, though the force did make it slide back several feet. Then, without even a grunt of exertion... Enkidu shoved it stright back up towards the King of Uruk with the power and speed of a super-sonic missile.

As Gilgamesh rushed downwards, Enkidu seemed to fly upwards through the ari towards his king and friend, his delicate-looking hands extending into sharp and distorted looking claws with too many talons and edges, and a wide and bloodthirsty smile on his delicate-looking face.

Closer, and closer, and closer did they sped towards the other, up and down. Gilgamesh, the King of Uruk, gripped his great weapon in both hands like a mad Berserker, its tip aimed towrds the fake Enkidu's heart, while Enkidu pointed forwards his claws.

When they clashed, a final blast and explosion rocked the air.

When it faded, it was to reveal Enkidu and Gilgamesh, locked in a most deadly embrace.

One of Enkidu's hand gripped Ea, the divine clay seeping into the weapon, clogging it up, and bringing its rotating gears grinding to a halt. The other claw had empaled the God-King of Uruk through his chest, both lungs, and his spine and neck.

"This was a most entertaining battle, Gil, just like all of our spars." Enkidu said, as the First Hero struggled on its claws. " I will be sure to treasure it greatly. But, in the end, the ending was never in doubt. Besides, your lack of true ability in melee was always one of your more glaring weaknesses, Gil, along with that temper of yours."

To Enkidu's slight shock, Gil was... laughing? "Perhaps you are right, twisted copy. But, at the same time, you seem to have failed to recognize your own great weakness as well, copy of my friend."

"And what exactly would that weakness be, might I ask?"

The King of Uruk laughed, even as he coughed up a great mouthful of blood. "Despite your great presence detection, you never really developed the habit of looking behind you in battle."

It was only then did Enkidu notice the portal that had been hovering behind its back at that moment. Through Enkidu's chest and heart, and then through Gill as well, was impaled the chain that bore Enkdiu's name, along with a bloody red lance that seemed crafted from bones and thorns and runes.

The wounds were not healing. The spear must have been a cursed weapon.

As the two both fell to their sides and to the ground, and Gil's many weapons faded that lay scattered about the battleground faded away into golden dust, the two old friends looked at the other. "A most excellent battle, my king," said Enkidu though bloody lips and teeth, as his hair and eyes began to regain their normal color. "Well done... and with my own chain, no less."

Gil gave a bloody smile of his own. "But of course. Only Enkidu has the real and true right to slay any twisted copies of himself."

Enkidu chuckled as it began to fade into green sparks. "I had forgotten about your sense of poetic justice, Gil. How... amusing... Truly, you are... king..."

Gilgamesh watched as his friend, now back to his former self, was swept away on the wind in a shower of emerald dust. He then looked at his own wounds, and knew that he did not have long. moments, at most.

Ah, but it had been a mildly entering War, he would admit, despite the utter stupidity of the mongrels that now inhabited his garden.

In the distance, before his vision went black and he returned to the throne, he watched as the sky began to darken...

* * *

As Luvia, Sakura, Elsa, Lancer(s) of Blue, and Assassin headed through the street towards the city's community center, The two adopted sisters felt a slight pain on their hands, and looked down in shock as their shared command seals faded away.

But they had no time to worry about that, as, a moment later, Assassins hand snapped out and deflected a gandr spell that had been sent towards Sakura's head.

"Hello, Sakura," came a voice that the younger Edelfelt sibling had not heard in almost ten years.

Calmly striding down the bunrig street was a young and noble looking woman, only offset by her three yellow eyes, and pale white skin and hair. She was dressed in red, matching the blood on her hands, and a disturbinngly cheerful smile was on her face. "So nice to see you again," said Rin Tohsaka, as she withrew gresh gems from a bag at her side. "There's just so much that we have to catch up on..."

* * *

When the Pashupata collided with Karna and the ground in a great and mighty explosion, Arjuna had felt beyond triumphant. Even with his blasted armor, Karna would not be able to survive that. His high divinity all but assured the outcome of his death.

Then, through the orb of power... came a blinding golden glow. It seemed to be getting closer... and closer... impossible!

Impossible!

Through the holy power of destruction that was the Pashupta, Karna flew upwards upon wings of pure and celestial flame and lightning, his armor glowing brightly, even as it slowly peeled itself away form the point where he had stabbed himself with the dagger of the Sun.

Through it all, he flew, undamaged save for his earlier wounds, even as Arjuna sent arrow after arrow into his chest and shoulders. Still he flew, unerringly, and unrelenting, like the Sun itself in the desert sky!

A moment later, a beam of red energy tore off Arjuna's left arm at the shoulder, and then the two brothers collided. Karna pushed his brother upwards and they struggled, even as Arjuna kept slamming a flame-encrusted fist into his side, over and over again, before then impaling it through his chest, but still, Karna did not let go.

With a final grunt of exertion, even as his being _burned, and_ Arjuna's enflamed fist tore burning holes through his chest _,_ Karna reached up, and rammed the Sun dagger through Arjuna's neck!

All Arjuna could do was just stare at his brother in shock.

At that moment, Karna's wings of flame dissipated, and the two both fell to the cratered land below them, where they landed with a heavy _crack_. Still, though, they were conscious

Arjuna grinned a weary, bloodstained smile, one of the few more honest and open expressions that Karna had ever seen on his face.

With a gentle motion, Karna then slowly removed the dagger from Arjuna's neck, albeit with a wet _squelch_. Even as around them, Fuyuki burned, all they could do was just stare at each other, as they lay upon the ground, and blood leaking from their broken bodies.

"...You win, brother. Damn you, but you have finally beaten me. Tell me...this outcome... doe it make you happy, to have finally reversed our legend?"

Karna shook his head. "No, Arjuna. It does not. I never desired any of this. It has happened, and I accept it, but that does not mean that I ever wanted any of this."

"Then... why? Answer me this... why did you never hate me... even after what I did to you, how I treated you?"

"You were only doing what you felt was right, and besides... you were my little brother. Never once could I ever hate you, or the rest of our family."

Despite himself, Arjuna smiled ruefully. "To have hated such an altruistic and caring soul...I really was a terrible, imperfect hero, wasn't I?" the Awarded hero asked, as the corruption emptied from his veins, and his hair and eyes regained their natural colors.

Karna shook his head at that question. "No, you were always a perfect hero, Arjuna, even with your perceived imperfections. You just tried too hard to be perfect."

At that, as he continued to gently fade away into blue mist, all the Awarded Hero could do was just laugh at it all. "Heh... always so confusingly honest... it's odd but... I truly hope that... we will be able meet again, in a happier life... my brother..."

As his brother faded away, to his surprise, Karna felt something warm begin to trickle down his left cheek.

How very surprising.

"Be at peace, brother," he whispered.

A moment later, The Son of Surya was the only one left on the destroyed battlefield, as Archer of Blue and the corrupted Lancer were both dead.

Though his entire being seemed to be filled with naught but pain, her armor was gone, and blood poured from over a dozen wounds, Karna remained materialized, and readied his bow as he slowly got to his feet.

A moment later... a great roar shook the world, and the sky darkened...

* * *

As their weapons clashed, the two technically dead gentlemen still spoke.

"I was hoping that I would come across that charlatan Holmes."

"Oh?" Parry, thrust, chop.

"Indeed." Riposte, trust, parry aside a stab to the heart, and dodge a sweeping of the leg. "I was most looking to the chance of the two of us having a chat; he would praise me as his greatest adversary, and I would accept the praise, and then I would proceed rip his head off with my bare hands and desecrate his corpse. But in an elegant manner befitting a gentleman, of course."

"Of course."

As their fight sent them all over and across the mad deck of the _Danse Macabre_ , Fina then suddenly smirked. "Speaking of adversaries…I actually spoke to Holmes as we sailed here. He knew it was you that had destroyed the airport back in Romania."

Morairty smirked as he pushed aside the axe with his cane. "Good to see that the 'Great Detective' can still recognize the work of his one true adversary after so long. Blood-ingrainred loyalty is a wonderous bit of magecraft."

To his surprise, Svelton actually laughed. "His One True Adversary? Is that what you really think of yourself, James old boy?"

Moriarty almost stumbled, and just managed to regain his footing before he lost his head from Fina's axe. "What are you babbling about, vampire?"

Riposte, stab, twist and parry. "Holmes told me that he never once considered you to be his greatest adversary. In fact, if I recall correctly, he called you 'an underwhelmingly amusing distraction, but, in the end, one who was no different from any of the other lowlifes and scum that I encountered in my life.'"

Moriarty's face contorted in rage, even as he blcoked a double blow from axe and rapier.

"The way he described you made you seem quite pathetic, and honestly, my own impressions of you coincided with his observations. I mean, in his won words, he found the mastermind behind the Baskerville case to be 'his most tenacious and intelligent foe' ever. Not you!"

"Shut up!" the criminal "mastermind" roared, as he suddenly tackled the vampire to the ground with surprising strength, impaling his sword-cane through his shoulder, making the vampire lose his grip on his weapons. "Shut your fanged mouth! I am the superior intellect! I am his one true foe!"

He began to slam and punch his fists into Fina's one-eyed face repeatedly. "My intellect was, and still is, miles and lightyears beyond anyone else in the history of the World! It was why you chose me, right!? It was why you gave me the knowledge of magecraft! Why you elevated me beyond all others!"

Fina spat out a fang and some blood, and grinned, as he caught Moriarty's next punch, though it was shaky. "I only did all that because I was absolutely bored, you were the first person that I found, and because I took pity on you! There was nothing special about you in any way whatsoever, either in ability or intellect. You were, and still are, an annoying, over-entitled, and self-indulgent narcissist, James. You were a disappointing mind, an average student, and an equally disappointing fuck between the sheets, James. Face facts, my dear… you were, and always will be, a _nothing."_

Moriarty's eyes became so wide that they could have been used as saucers for teacups, and he slammed his held fist down upon the deck, shattering the vampire's arm backwards and making him cry out in pain, before resuming his assault upon the now defenseless vampire's head. He was lying, he WAS LYING! "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Through it all, Fina-Blooded Svelton just laughed and laughed.

"Stop laughing! Stop laughing, you fucking pirate! I am James Moriarty! I am the Napoleon of Crime. I ran England from teh shadows, and held nearly the entirety of the world in the palm of my hand, like a spider in its web, and my criminal empire stretched all the way from the penal colony of Australia to the coast of California! Compared to me, all others are nothing more than shit-stained neanderthals, rolling about and rutting in thier own filth and excrement like animals. I. AM. NOT. NOTHING! I AM-"

"Absolutely ugly," came the horrified whisper, a whisper that, somehow, both Moriarty could hear through the din and clamor of battle.

It was the Caster of Black, Da Vinici, and he was looking upon Moriarty with an expression of horror and disgust.

Moriarty hated it immediately. "What on earth are you babbling about, Caster of Black?"

A moment later, he recieved his answer, as a wordless spell blew Moriarty's leff off at the knee

"You... everything about you, even your intellect... it's just so horrific.I have tried to see the beauty in all things. But you, James Moriarty… you are ugly!"

The Caster of Black then seeemd to collect himself, and straightened up. "As such, I, Leonardo Da Vinci, have no chcoice but to put you down like the dog you are!"

"And you are nothing but an annoyance, you fucking sodomite! Get out of my way, or die!"

The Famed Polymath shook his head. "No, Moriarty. It is you who shall die here." He then raised up his staff, and began to chant.

 _"The wise men from the East, the Great God of Northern Europe, the fruit of knowledge... My wisdom, my omnipotence, surpasses all other wisdom."_

No, he would not be destroyed here. With a mental command, Moriarty leveled his floating coffin towards teh caster, and it opened up to reveal the barrel of a gatling gun, one that soon began to whir to life as it aimed directly at the center of the Polymath's chanting head.

 **Dynamics of-**

Suddenly, The Napoleon of Crime felt a searing pain in his chest and looked down in shock to see the jagged edge of Svelton's rapier erupt from his chest, and his Noble Phantasm fizzled out as its true name died on his now bloody lips.

Then, Fina leaned in, and held tightly onto the struggling Archer via a tight arm around the entirety of his neck. "No escape this time, James, my dear. Just like in Reinbach, this is your final bow."

Now matter how hard he struggled, he could not break free, despite his power as a Servant. No! No, no no no no no NO NONONONONONONO! This was impossible. IMPOSSIBLE!

Caster's stafff glowed as bright as a star, and he slammed it down onto the ground, as he raised his gauntlet high, and a perfect orb of light shot out of it, towards the restrained Moriarty.

 _ **"Uomo Universale: Offense!"**_

A thousand tiny, perfectly placed explosions rocked the whole of Moriarty's body. They were so perfectly placed and detonated, however, that he did not even have time to scream in agony.

Thus died the Napolean of Crime, for a second time, at the hands of an intellectual superior...

* * *

As the corrupted mastermind died and vanished into black sparks, Leonardo rushed over to where Fina lay. "Oh dear, he really did a number on you, my dear Fina."

Fina smiled through his broken lips. "It is fine, though, I am also sure taht it is nothing a few kisses cannot fix, eh, _mi amor_."

Leonardo chuckled as he helped the vampire to his feet. "Even in the midst of a battle, you are always such a flatterer, Fina. I am glad that that has not changed."

Fina chuckled again as his face slowly healed, and then dipped Leonardo low, and placed a solid kiss square on his lips.

It was a beautiful moment, even amidst the carnage.

Eventually, the kiss finished, and Fina pulled Leonardo back up. "Now then, _mi amore_ ," the admiral said, as he took up his rapier and a fresh pistol. "It is time to repel these fucking boarders from my fleet. _En Garde!"_

On the shore, three demi-gods died, and a great and terrible roar shook the world and the heavens.

Then came more explosions.

* * *

Saber of Black, Juubei, was unsure of how long it had taken him to travel up the ruined stairs, and back towards the temple, as many of his wounds still had yet to be mended by the Yawarakai-Te's healing glow. Indeed, he was not so much being healed as simply keeping his wounds from getting worse. If he let go of the sword, then he would die. But, he could not stop. He dared not, at least until he reached his target.

Soon enough he found it. Hovering by the open gate, what looked like a beating heart, floating in the air, and feeding power to the mountain and the flying fortress.

As he looked upon it, he knew what he had to do. For this task, he did not require a blade that could kill with bloodlust, or even one that could kill with serenity. All that he truly required was a blade that specialized in cutting something.

He sheathed the Yawarakai-Te, and raised the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo high in both hands, assuming the Ratio stance, even as his wounds began to freshly bleed. He had but moments.

That would be enough.

He felt himself achieve Suigetsu, in that moment.

 ** _Miike Tenta Mitsuyo: Shinkage-ryuu!_**

One moment later, the heart was sliced in twain.

In the next moment, Yagyuu Juubei died, with a smile on his bloody face.

He died a hero.

* * *

 _Hold of_ The Danse Macabre

Gordes watched morosely as the smudges that had been his command seals faded away entirely from the back of his hand.

Ah well, at least his Servant had died a good death, and not for some idiotic reason, like tearing out his own heart or some other such nonsense.

Now, all Gordes could hope was that the rest of this strange little alliance could survive the night...

* * *

As the last sacrifice died, gurgling and shitting and bleeding upon the floor, the Greater Grail glowed as bright as a dying sun, and the black portal grew larger.

Prelati's grin grew wider.

Excellent.

The fallen saint then turned to Francesca and her servant. "Well, I suppose it is time now. Let us usher in a new world, full of unending love."

Then, a small frown twisted at her lips. "Hmm... it seems we have some guests. How rude."

A moment later, the wall of the cavern exploded into dust.

Francesca's grin still did not leave her face though.

They were too late...

* * *

 **The Signal has ben sent.**

 **The Doorway has been opened.**

 **It is time.**

 **Our queen has beckoned us forward.**

 **The World hungers for our touch.**

 **Soon, it wiil be ours, and it will know our gentle caress and love once more.**

 **WE.**

 **ARE.**

 **RETURNED.**

* * *

As they entered the cavern, Flat, Holmes, Saber, Gray, Caules, and Asterios all looked in horror at what lay before them, as the cavern started to shake...

* * *

 **A/N: I am so, so, so very sorry, for not updating this in so long. But, on the bright side, this story is still alive!**

 **Also, sorry if the fight scenes are not satisfactory, or if the chapter is too short.**

 **Anyway, read, review, and enjoy.**


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